Red In Our Eyes
by ChangingTheCircumstances
Summary: Will and Hannibal, accompanied by Abigail, arrive in London following the tracks of a killer. Will finds that he must work alongside Sherlock Holmes who begins to test Will's sanity from the start. Soon, Will's entire reality begins to crumble as more secrets come to the surface and he finds that he can't trust anyone. May have Will/Hannibal later. Rated T for now.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is a crossover between the shows Hannibal and BBC's Sherlock. I'm still finishing up my Les Mis fanfic but I wanted to get this out while it was still on my mind. I hope you like it and reviews are greatly appreciated. Set before the finale of season 2 in Sherlock.**

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Will stayed close behind Hannibal on the crowded streets of London. He really hadn't wanted to come but Jack had insisted. He was just thankful that he hadn't come alone and that Hannibal had been the one to accompany him. Abigail had also accompanied them but currently remained at the hotel. Alana hadn't wanted her to but she wasn't her patient anymore and she wasn't her mother either so it wasn't like she could tell her what to do.

The FBI believed that the current serial killer they were trying to catch had moved to London and Will was to work alongside Scotland Yard with a Detective Inspector Lestrade and a Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Will was not looking forward to this and the bustling streets weren't helping.

Currently, Hannibal and himself were to meet Sherlock Holmes at 221B Baker Street and then accompany him to the most recent crime scene; only discovered ten minutes ago.

At seven o'clock in the morning and another sleepless night, Will was not in a pleasant mood and he had a feeling that it wouldn't change as the day went by. He wasn't sure who he expected once he knocked on the door but he definitely wasn't expecting the old woman who answered the door.

"Ah, you must be Mr. Graham and Mr. Lecter."

"I'm Will Graham and it's actually Dr. Lecter," Will corrected, his voice uneasy as he looked anywhere but the woman's eyes. "And you are?"

"Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock should be down any second. Do come in," she said and moved aside to allow them to past.

Will looked around the flat. The place seemed tidy enough down here but there was no telling what the rest of the place could look like. Suddenly, a short, blonde man came down the stairs, swiftly followed by a taller, curly dark haired man in a coat.

"Sherlock Holmes," the taller man said. He didn't offer a hand which Will was grateful of. "And you must be . . ." he paused for a second and then said, "yes, you're Will Graham and your Dr. Lecter."

"How do you know he's a doctor?" asked the blonde man. "The email only said Mr. Hannibal Lecter—"

"John, I could go on and on about how I know but I'm sure Lestrade is getting antsy at the moment," said Sherlock. Then, slightly under his breath, "He probably deserves to get antsy though. After thinking they need another consultant. Uh."

Catching his comment, Hannibal said, "Not fond of the FBI Mr. Holmes? Or are you just narcissistic?"

Sherlock opened his mouth to argue the point but stopped as he finally really looked at Hannibal. It had only taken one quick glance for him to know that the man was a doctor. Now that he was actually seeing him, a frown appeared on Sherlock's face.

His eyes roaming over Hannibal, Sherlock was reminded of James Moriarty. Like him, Hannibal was nearly impossible to read. He couldn't see anything that would tell him about the man's past or daily habits. All he could see was that he took very good care of himself and had an . . . interesting diet.

Of what that diet consisted Sherlock couldn't tell though.

"Have you become a mute now Mr. Holmes?" Hannibal suddenly asked a smirk on his face. His voice brought Sherlock back to the present and the detective was soon glaring at him.

Finally he said, "You're a psychiatrist aren't you."

Hannibal smiled again, normal on the outside but underneath was a cold, dark grin.

Sherlock ignored this and finally turned to Will Graham. Whereas Hannibal wasn't afraid to say what was on his mind and was clearly outgoing, Will was definitely the opposite. Watching him twitch and look anywhere except for a person's eyes, Sherlock quickly decided that he was slightly autistic and unstable.

"Why do you keep staring at me?" Will then asked, uncomfortable under the detective's gaze.

"Just curious about what type of person you are," replied Sherlock. John knew that Sherlock was going to go on one of his rants and tried to intercede but only failed miserably. Sherlock said, "You are slightly autistic and most certainly unstable. You dislike eye contact and aren't good at socializing with people even though you would like to. You live alone with five, maybe six, dogs. You're also a teacher as well as a consultant for the FBI. You aren't close to your family either, no siblings, single parent. And, you have a personality disorder."

After a moment of silence, Will finally got out in a shaky breath, "It's not so much a personality disorder as an over active imagination."

"There's always something," muttered Sherlock looking extremely disappointed in himself. He didn't seem to notice the effect he had on Will.

It was nearly impossible to stop shaking. Will felt like he had just been unmade, like his very being had been picked apart right in front of him. If only a few seconds of looking at him could tell Sherlock all of that, then could he see the darker side of Will?

Hannibal knew about his darker side. In a way, he'd been the one to make Will realize it. However, Hannibal had gone through many of these experiences beside Will and Will had also opened up to Hannibal too.

Sherlock shouldn't have been able to know all that he had and Will doubted he'd simply looked him up on the internet or something. Will had to work with Sherlock until they caught this killer which meant spending days with the detective if not more than a week. What would Sherlock do if he knew of this darker side of him? Would he tell anyone? Scotland Yard? The FBI?

When Will finally started to pay attention to what was going on around him again, he found that the shorter one, John, was yelling at Sherlock.

"What have I told you about doing that?" he cried out, an accusing finger pointed at the detective. "If he had wanted you to know those things he would've told you himself! Really Sherlock."

"I can't turn it off John. You know that."

"No but you can shut your mouth," replied John, causing a hurt look to appear on Sherlock's face.

Hannibal sighed, his face revealing nothing as he said, "Maybe we should be on our way now. I'm sure the Detective Inspector is wondering where we are."

"Yes, of course," muttered Sherlock. "The location is near the intersection of Shorts Gardens and Endell Street. We can take a cab there. They have most of the area around the crime scene blocked off anyway so we'll walk the rest of the way to where the incident happened."

John looked at Will and though he hadn't been able to figure out everything Sherlock had he saw the unease that went across his face at sharing a cab with all four of them. He quickly said, "We can take separate cabs as well. Don't want it to get to crowded."

"Excellent," said Hannibal. "We'll see you there then. Come along William."

Will followed Hannibal out the door and, allowing them some time to get ahead, Sherlock and John then followed a little later. Hannibal and Will stepped into a cab as Sherlock tried to flag one down. Taking almost a minute, they finally got one and climbed in.

Once in there, John said, "If you knew he was unstable then why spout all that out?"

"Why didn't you ask this while at the flat?"

"Because he was really uncomfortable! Sherlock, you can be such . . . such an idiot to human emotion sometimes!" cried out John.

"But aren't you the least bit curious John? There's obviously something wrong with the man so why is he employed by the FBI? Also, despite the fact that the FBI know how I work, they still feel the need to send a consultant."

"Maybe they wanted their men to still stay with the case. I mean, it was their case to begin with Sherlock."

"If that was it then they would've sent just a regular every day agent. There's clearly something about this one that makes him special and I look forward to finding out," replied Sherlock.

"Well, try to make it a bit less obvious. If the entire list of things you said about him is true—"

"It is."

"—then I doubt we really want to make him upset or angry," John finished.

As John and Sherlock discussed Will, the very man was currently hunkered into a defensive position in his own cab. His arms were wrapped around his legs with his head in between his knees, his breath coming in and out extremely quickly. Will was ignoring the cabbie driver, Hannibal's hand gently pressed onto the small of his back.

"He's alright isn't he?" asked the cabbie man. "If he's drunk he better not—"

"I assure you he's not drunk," Hannibal simply replied. "He'll be fine in a few minutes."

He let his hand gently massage Will's back until Will finally said, "How? How did he do that?"

"Interesting isn't," murmured Hannibal.

"Interesting?! I feel unmade. I feel like someone just jumped into my head without me asking and not what you do. You're like a visitor in my head. It was almost like Sherlock pushed me inside and was me. He didn't do that to you. You don't understand how I feel."

Hannibal didn't say anything to that. He wondered how far the detective had gotten pass his outer wall. He was pretty sure that the detective wouldn't have stayed quite if he had figured out what he was but nevertheless, how much did he know?

Remaining silent for the rest of the time, Will was finally able to pull himself together as they arrived at the scene. A few seconds later, Sherlock and John arrived as well, stepping out of their own cab.


	2. Chapter 2

Will was trying to adjust his glasses when a silver haired man walked up to them. "You must be Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter. Which is which?"

"I'm Will Graham."

"And I'm Dr. Lecter," Hannibal said, holding out his hand to the man. As he took it, Hannibal asked, "And you are?"

"Detective Inspector Lestrade. Jack's told me a lot about both of you."

"You've worked with Jack then," suggested Hannibal.

"Several times over the years. We're acquaintances certainly though I wouldn't say friends. The crime scene's this way," Lestrade said and began to lead them down the street. Sherlock and John followed close behind.

As they walked, Will looked at the blood on the sidewalk, splattered in different patches. "He's getting desperate."

"What was that?" asked Lestrade.

"He, or she I suppose, is getting desperate. Whatever he's searching for he's running out of time. Do we have any witnesses?" asked Will, trying to avoid the detective's piercing gaze.

"Yes but the man was wearing a mask. From what we could get he's about five foot nine but strongly built. We have no idea what ethnicity he is. The man is in the alley right over there."

"The man?" Will was confused now. So far it had only been women.

"Yes, a man. He still fits the profile of the other girls though. A little taller, little bit more muscle, but still close. He has the shaggy blonde hair, blue eyes, and pale skin."

"It could be a copycat killer," suggested Sherlock. Very rarely did a serial killer break his pattern even if they were becoming desperate. Speaking of which, Sherlock was trying to figure out how Will could see the killer was desperate. The random patches of blood told Sherlock that the victim had been chased before being killed but he didn't have any more evidence than that.

Nevertheless, as they walked into the alley, Will's breath caught and he quickly said, "It's not a copycat."

Sherlock frowned, beginning to ask how he could tell when of course Anderson interrupted him.

"Who's this? Another freak?"

The words stung Will but he was use to it and simply said, "I'm a consultant for the FBI."

Anderson opened his mouth to say something else when Lestrade interjected saying, "Come on Anderson, move everything out."

Anderson mumbled something about there being to many freaks and not enough Scotland Yard but walked out of the alley way, most likely to go talk to Sergeant Donovan about this new addition. Sherlock walked forward to begin looking over the body when he felt a strong hand land on his shoulder.

"I think it would be best if Will went first," said Hannibal.

"You don't order me around. Lestrade—"

"Sherlock, I know this isn't how you usually do this this but Jack also suggested that we allow Mr. Graham to go first. You'll have your turn Sherlock," muttered Lestrade with a roll of his eyes.

The detective glared daggers at him but didn't intervene as Will went forward. He was curious at what was so different about this man. At what made him special.

Will walked up to the body as he put on the gloves that he'd been given and kneeled down beside the victim. There were two cuts to each shoulder. They had been administered perfectly so that the arms would've been useless at the man's sides. There were five stab marks over the heart, perfectly fitting through the ribs.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Will slowly stepped into the mind of the killer.

When he opened his eyes again, the noise of the city and police were gone. The body in front was erased as he got up and began to walk backwards. It was darker now, earlier that morning. While he walked back down the street, the blood spots disappeared from the sidewalk.

Now near the end of the sidewalk, were the police tape had begun, Will stopped and closed his eyes again. As they opened, he saw the young man in front of him, walking down the street.

Will let the knife in his sleeve slide into his hand as he slowly followed the victim. Then with a thrust of power, he ran forward, slicing through the muscle that controlled the left arm.

Blood splattered the sidewalk.

"With surgical precision his left arm is now useless as he runs away," said Will as he followed the man. "I stay behind, not because I can't catch up . . . but because I want him to feel one last glimmer of hope before his death."

As the alley came closer, Will lurched forward and cut the muscle in his right arm. The sudden loss of control caused the man to fall to the ground. Will bent down, knife still in hand, and began to drag him into the alley way, blood smearing the ground.

"I apply duct tape to his mouth. The loss of blood and the constant screams causes him to begin to black out. This is not my goal."

Suddenly Will was brought back to the present, and he looked down at the body in front of him. He was sweating now and breathing heavily but he ignored that and the eyes on his back. He looked at the man's neck and saw the signs of an injection made in the man's jugular.

Will fell back into the mind of the killer.

"I inject him with a dose of adrenaline. I want him wide awake. I want him to feel everything."

Will climbed on top of him, the knife in his hands. He brings it over his head and uses his entire body mass as he slams it into the heart. The man lurches upward, eyes bulging. The first blow kills him but Will strikes him again and again, administering four more blows not including the killing one.

"My first strike kills him. There is no need for the other four except . . . for utter pleasure. This is my design," Will whispered.

As he came back to the present, the killer's mind still lingered beside Will's while he stood up and turned to everyone.

"I'm still-I mean the murderer is still searching. This won't be their last kill," Will got out, his breath uneven as his hands slightly shook at his sides. He could tell that Hannibal and Sherlock had caught his mess up at the beginning of the sentence but appeared no one else had thankfully. Neither of them made a move to mention it.

"What do you mean searching? Searching for what?" asked Lestrade, arms crossed in front of him.

For a moment, Will was silent, his mind spinning. The other murders, the four girls, hadn't revealed what he'd-he meant the murder-had been searching for. Now, this one desperate act made Will's imagination reel.

"He feels bad. Angry."

"About the murders?" asked John.

"No! About one that happened before, one he didn't cause. He's older, probably retired from a hospital. He wants to be forgiven."

"Forgiven for what?" asked Lestrade.

"I'm . . . I'm not sure. But check murders that happened, probably ten, maybe as much as twenty years ago. Check databases where a blonde, blue eyed, pale woman with the same height and weight requirements was on trial for a murder. She would've walked free and is probably dead now."

"You think that this is revenge?" asked Sherlock, his eyes narrowed. "Do you think our killer is trying to get back at a murderer who walked free?"

"Not . . . exactly," said Will. He took a deep breath and he knew that they probably wanted more of an explanation now but what came out of his mouth instead was, "Does anyone have any aspirin?"

"I brought some along just in case," replied Hannibal as he handed him the small bottle.

Lestrade, watched Will, his mind wondering just how off his rocker this guy was but then turned to Sherlock and said, "You're turn. Just tell us when you're done."

Sherlock nodded, leaving one last glance at Will before setting to work at examining the body.

John walked up to Will and said, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, just need to sit down for a bit."

"Come on, there's a bench over here," said John and he led Will in that direction. Will was reluctant to leave Hannibal and he half hoped that he'd follow but he didn't. Nevertheless, Will wasn't as uncomfortable with John as he usually was after meeting new people.

Hannibal would've liked to follow but there was something he needed to say to Lestrade.

"Inspector—"

"Just call me Lestrade. Everyone does."

"Lestrade then, before we have to go any further, I'm sure you're wondering what exactly Will's gift is and I'd rather you'd hear it from me. Will doesn't very much enjoy talking about it."

"Well, yes I was actually wondering. How did he know all of that information?"

"Dear William has pure imagination. He's able to see any point of view, yours, mine, a victim, or a killer, and feel empathy for them."

"So he puts himself into the killer's mind."

"I'm surprised you caught onto that so quickly," admitted Hannibal.

"Well I'm no Sherlock but I'm not Detective Inspector for nothing. I'll get my men on looking for what Mr. Graham said. I'm sure the FBI will be doing a similar search?"

"Yes. If it is alright with you, we'll accompany you to the place where you'll have your people of forensics take a closer look at the body."

"Of course it's fine. You can ride in my car so you don't have to take a cab" Lestrade said. Sherlock was still busy with the body so he glanced over to where Will was. "I'd like to know Dr. Lecter, and I apologize if it seems I'm prying, but is he unstable?"

"Most would say yes," replied Hannibal.

"And what do you say?"

Hannibal paused for a moment, trying to choose the right words. Finally he said, "Unstable, yes but I truly think he only needs to find himself." _But which side of himself will he finally choose?_


	3. Chapter 3

** AN: Just a quick thank you to everyone. I honestly wasn't sure if anyone would read this though I'm glad you are. Hope you enjoy this next chapter.**

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The victim hadn't had any identification on him but using his deductive ability, Sherlock quickly figured out nearly the exact point where the man lived. He and John, along with a few other officers, would go there now. Hannibal and Will would accompany Lestrade and a few other people back to St. Bart's hospital and then later to Scotland Yard.

Though he didn't miss the company, Will hadn't minded John's presence to much. However, he was extremely thankful that Sherlock wasn't there anymore.

Even though Lestrade offered the front seat, Will climbed into the back. Lestrade wanted to get to know him better, try to understand or even see if he had the capability of understanding him better. Also, a small part of him was worried about what would happen if Will did break down.

Lestrade had no idea what it was like, having a killer in your mind, but he had caught some pretty sick people in his days. He was sure Will had probably met just as demented minds as Lestrade had and the detective imagined that this would have an effect on the person.

If Sherlock could somehow do the same thing as Will, Lestrade honestly wouldn't have worried. Others might have but Lestrade trusted Sherlock and he also knew that the consulting detective wouldn't be affected by a multitude of killers in his head. However, it was because of this that Lestrade was sure why Sherlock couldn't do what Will did.

Not only was Sherlock purely factual but he also wasn't the best with human emotion. The idea of Sherlock feeling so much empathy for someone that he got shaky and breathless was like saying the moon was really neon green. It just didn't work.

Nevertheless, he found Dr. Lecter to be a very interesting companion. Lestrade found out that besides helping profile some killers for the FBI, another reason he was there was because he was Will's psychiatrist and friend.

Lestrade immediately decided that the doctor was extremely protective over Will. Every time Lestrade tried to direct a question towards Will, Hannibal would answer it for him or brush it aside. Sometimes Will would answer a question with a few simple words but Lestrade quickly understood that he was uncomfortable with it, one of the reasons why Hannibal interjected many of them.

At first, Lestrade had thought the dynamic between Hannibal and Will was similar to Sherlock and John. However, Sherlock and John were pretty much like putting 'utterly alien and out there' and 'completely everyday normal' together. Hannibal and Will _both_ seemed pretty odd compared to the average human.

Really, after only just meeting them, Lestrade shouldn't be making these opinions but for whatever reason he felt that he was right on the money. Also, even though Hannibal seemed extremely normal on the outside, something told Lestrade that he was nothing like that on the inside. Maybe it was just a feeling and a side effect of hanging out with Sherlock to much but it was still there.

And then there was the fact that Sherlock and John were both equals to each other despite being so different. They complemented the other's faults and strengths. Lestrade felt that Hannibal was the leader, the one in control. He didn't detect anything dangerous but he was sure that Hannibal had the main power. And despite how much their outward looks differed, Lestrade was positive that they were really quite similar on the inside.

Thinking about this and also making conversation with Hannibal made the ride seem much shorter than it was and suddenly they were at St. Bart's Hospital.

When they went inside to where the body was, Molly was already there with it and the other body that had been murdered in England. There was also information about the other three who'd died in the United States.

"Dr. Lecter, Mr. Graham, this is Molly Hooper," Lestrade said, gesturing at them.

"You're working with Sherlock aren't you? On the current case?"

"That is correct Mrs. Hooper," replied Hannibal with a smile and a tilt of his head. "That is the other body I presume."

"Um, yes it is. She died two days ago at about a quarter past nine at night," she said, looking over her clip board. She looked curiously at Will. Hannibal seemed nice enough but Will hadn't made eye contact with her once. She wondered why.

Will walked over to the two bodies. Laid out next to each other, the two people looked like they could practically be twins. Their wounds were almost exactly the same.

"She also had duct tape over her mouth when we found her," added Molly.

Will nodded, still remaining silent.

"So you think our culprit is older then?" questioned Lestrade as he watched Will.

"Yes. His wife, sibling, friend, someone he cared about very much died I believe. Murdered really and the main culprit, who looks like these two, walked free. He probably wrestled with the guilt for years and when he finally decided to act, the murderer was already dead. Could be from old age, an accident, a disease, I'm not sure," said Will. The car ride had given him more time to think.

"So he's trying to repent in a way, say sorry to this relation of his because he didn't kill the real killer," Lestrade commented.

Will nodded and said, "He's running out of time though which is why he tried and killed this man. He's looking for a sign of forgiveness and clearly hasn't found it yet. He might not be as old as I'm thinking and simply be dying from some type of disease. The murder happened a while ago though. That I'm sure of."

Lestrade nodded and asked, "Do you have any idea of where he could've come from? Like where he lived?"

Will shook his head. As he continued to look over the information on the bodies, the killer's mind hadn't fully left him and standing next to them made him feel sick to his stomach. He had to keep reminding himself that he hadn't killed them himself.

"Um . . . could we go on to Scotland Yard now?" questioned Will, wanting to get away from the bodies.

"Of course. Molly, call us the moment you get the tox results and all other information," said Lestrade.

"Okay, it was nice meeting you Dr. Lecter," said Molly with a tentative smile.

"The pleasure is all mine," replied Hannibal.

"Nice meeting you Mr. Graham," Molly then said to Will. However, she only got a small little nod from him and then a goodbye from Lestrade. Ideas went through Molly's head of why Will Graham acted the way he did as she performed the autopsies.

At Scotland Yard, Will sat in Lestrade's office, going through papers that hadn't made it into the databases. There were others going through the systems but they had to check everything. Will had also already called the FBI so they could run a search as well.

It was doubtful that the person was from the UK but it was likely that the person had either previously lived in the UK or at least gone there often seeing as the murders had transferred from the State New Jersey to London.

Hannibal helped him as Lestrade suddenly got a call. Listening to the voice on the other end, he said, "The guy's name is James Crocker. We're searching his place now."

"You won't find anything," said Will, his eyes not moving from the papers.

Lestrade didn't comment on this and continued to help going through the papers.

It was a little past lunch time and no one had moved from the room when Sherlock and John came back.

"Find anything?" asked Lestrade.

"Nothing that would help us find the killer," replied Sherlock with a disappointed huff.

"Any luck on your side?" asked John.

"None yet," replied Hannibal, "we're still working."

"Are you sure? I didn't know psychiatrists could work. I thought they just talked about people's problems and got into their business," said Sherlock.

Hannibal snapped the folder he held in his hands shut and stood up, full body facing Sherlock.

"Sherlock, you making comments like that isn't—" Lestrade tried but he was interrupted by Hannibal.

"I see you don't like me Mr. Holmes. Any reason for that? Would you like to talk about it?" asked Hannibal with a smirk on his face as he watched the irritation rise in Sherlock.

"Something's off about you. I just know it!"

"If you know it, then tell me what it is."

"I-I don't know _what_ it is yet! But you're not normal."

"And you are?" asked Hannibal.

"That's beside the point," Sherlock replied.

"Really? If we're not talking about abnormal then you're the prime suspect."

"Me? What about little Will? Hmm? What I do is factual. What he does is just come up with pictures in his head."

"Do not bring Will into this," Hannibal said, his voice going slightly lower.

"Let him fight his own battles," replied Sherlock. "What do say to that Mr. Graham? You and your little pictures."

"I don't . . . I don't want to get involved in anything."

"Sherlock! Just stop it already," cried out John. "Leave them both alone. There's no point in fighting."

"Yes, listen to dear John Sherlock. It would be in your best interest," replied Hannibal.

"Was that threat?" asked Sherlock.

"No. That was simply a statement. When I make a threat, you will know," Hannibal said, staring Sherlock straight in the eye.

Sherlock glared back. He tried to see past Hannibal's cover, tried but failed and it only made him angrier. Finally, he was the first to break contact and turned, saying, "John, we're leaving."

John quickly apologized for everything that happened and then ran after Sherlock who was already at the elevator.

"Why'd you have to do that?" asked Will.

"That _consulting_ detective has been running free to long. Really Lestrade, you must keep a better eye on your pets," Hannibal said.

Years ago and a comment like that would've made Lestrade angry as hell. Now, he was use to hearing worse and simply replied, "I wish I could."

Hannibal huffed his annoyance and then picked up the file he had before. They spent the rest of the day looking over everything.


	4. Chapter 4

While Hannibal and Will had been working the crime scene, Abigail had been going around London. She'd been tempted to go to the crime scene but she decided against it knowing Will wouldn't like it. She knew Hannibal wouldn't mind but Will would probably freak out.

After it had begun to grow dark outside, Abigail went back to the hotel to wait for Hannibal and Will to return. When they entered, she was busy reading the newspaper. She'd situated it so it looked like she was looking at the funny pages but she was really reading about the current murders. It was a little after ten.

"How are you Will?" she asked as he walked in.

"Um . . . alright."

Abigail really wanted to ask him about the case, about the dead bodies. However, she'd probably shocked Will enough when she finally admitted that she didn't mind that he'd killed her dad.

"Hello Hannibal."

"Hello Abigail. How was your day?"

"Fine. Yours?"

"Productive," he finally said.

"What did you think of Sherlock Holmes?"

Hannibal raised an eyebrow. "You know of Mr. Holmes?"

"I've been reading up on him. What's he like?"

"Smart enough but horrible manners," replied Hannibal. He made it sound comical but Abigail could already tell that Hannibal didn't really care for him.

They had rented a suite. There were two queen size beds in the bedroom and Abigail had claimed the living room as her own. Will had tried to assure her that she could sleep in the bed and he'd sleep on the couch but she wouldn't budge.

Will had grabbed a shirt and some sleeping pants and went into the restroom to change. Abigail stayed on the couch, continuing to mark notes on the newspaper that she found interesting or thought important.

When Will came back out from the bathroom, obviously haven taken a shower, he came into the living room. He still had trouble looking at her but he was getting better. Will still couldn't look her in the eye like Hannibal but he did make an effort.

"You shouldn't have stayed up so late," he said.

"I wanted to see you two before I went to bed," she answered honestly with a smile. She got up and gave him a hug. "Night."

"Uh . . . good night," Will said. He was also getting better at hugging too. The first time Abigail had hugged him he'd looked like he'd have a heart attack.

Before the accident, she'd never been a light sleeper but now it seemed like the softest of sounds could wake her. Her eyes flashed open as she heard the sound of a bed creaking, as if someone were getting off of it.

Softly getting onto her feet, she went and peaked into the bedroom.

Hannibal was sitting by the sleeping Will, running his fingers through his hair. Will had already sweated through his sheets but he hadn't woken up and now seemed calmer upon the contact.

Hannibal glanced over to where Abigail was and raised an eyebrow, his face clearly questioning, _why are you still awake?_

In answer, Abigail simply gave him a thumbs up.

He rolled his eyes and gave her another piercing look that said go to bed.

Abigail did just that, wondering when Will would realize that he had his own form of an angel looking over him.

That morning, she woke up to the sounds of a shower. Hannibal was already dressed for the day, smoothing out his tie as she came into the room. She walked over to him and asked, "When will you tell him?"

"One step at a time dear Abigail," he replied.

"I know but I don't like keeping secrets from him. I mean, I know we have to take it slow but I just want to tell him now," Abigail muttered. She remembered when she'd first found out about the murders and cannibalism that Hannibal committed. If he'd told her before the death of Nigel, she might've not have taken to well.

However, Hannibal had told her after she'd completely come to terms with his death and in response, she completed her second murder. She'd been very proud of it and Hannibal had made a wonderful dinner. Will had gotten part of the liver.

Bringing her back to the present, Hannibal said, "One day Will shall know everything but today is not that day."

Abigail nodded and went back to the living room, getting out a book and began to read. As Will walked out of the bathroom, hair still damp, Hannibal got a call. Abigail listened curiously, hearing interest peak in Hannibal's voice.

"We need to get to Scotland Yard now Will," said Hannibal. "I do believe they've found a person that matches everything you've listed."

Will nodded and grabbed his coat. He and Hannibal went into the living room but Will stopped, saying, "I'm sorry we have to leave so early again. I'm . . . still confused why you wanted to come."

"Don't worry, I'll be fine. Besides, I've never been to England before," she replied with a shrug of her shoulders. Though she wanted to, Abigail quickly decided that the words 'have fun' weren't exactly appropriate for this

Will simply nodded and left, following behind Hannibal.

When they arrived at Scotland Yard, Will couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief because Sherlock wasn't there. He was sure he'd see him again before long but he wasn't looking forward to it.

"His names Brian Arden," said Lestrade. "He's the only one who meets all the criteria."

Will took the folder that held the information about the man. He was in his late sixties and had lived in Oregon. When he was about sixteen, he'd moved to the UK and stayed until he was twenty-two. While there, apparently a friend of his died, Mark Dandridge. The woman that was prime suspect was later let go and found innocent.

Looking over all the information, Will saw that the man had then moved back to the US. He lived in New Jersey until he'd disappeared about seven months ago. He'd been a surgeon at a local hospital in the town he'd lived in.

"I'd check all hotels and motels, in and around London. Look at their security cameras and see if anyone even remotely similar to Brian Arden shows up on them," said Will.

"Already done," Lestrade replied. "We have teams going over them now."

Will nodded his understanding and said, "I'm guessing you have other people that at least partially fit the profile. Can I have a look at them?"

"Of course."

The moment Will had opened up the folder, he'd known Brian Arden was their guy. However, they needed concrete proof and they needed to find and Will didn't want to just sit in an office and wait. Nevertheless, he'd already gone through all of the folders and it wasn't another hour until they finally got a match.

It was a small hotel on the outside of London. Will suggested that only a few people go in at first. He seemed fairly certain that this guy would give it up and not try to go down in a fight. Lestrade was wary doing this move but listened to Will. However, he had a number of guys standing guard outside when they went into the hotel.

Will and Lestrade were the only ones to enter. They went to the front desk and Lestrade showed his badge. He took out a picture of Brian Arden and then asked, "Do you have a man staying here that looks like this?"

"Seems familiar," the guy murmured. He turned to a woman next to him and asked, "Miranda, do you recognize this guy?"

"Uh-yes actually! That's Mr. Darien. Is something wrong?" she asked.

"We just need to speak to him," said Lestrade. "What's his room number?"

"Hold on a moment . . . 325. Do you need a key card?"

"Yes, thank you," Lestrade replied and then he and Will went to the elevator and began their way up. Even if he tried to make a break for it, they had plenty of people on the outside that would be able to catch him.

When they got to his room, Lestrade took out his gun and Will mirrored him. Lestrade went and slowly inserted the key card in and then opened the door. His gun went forward but there wasn't anyone there.

However, Will heard something and quickly went towards the restroom. When he opened the door, his breath caught in his throat and he rushed forward as swiftly as possible. "Lestrade!" he yelled out, beckoning the man to come in.

Lestrade rushed in, gun ready, but found that he didn't need to shoot. Will was on top of an older looking man, trying to stop the bleeding in both his wrists. It was Brian Arden. He was still conscious and only barely.

In the background, Will could hear Lestrade calling for an ambulance but he wasn't paying attention. "No . . . no I have to stop the bleeding have to stop it," Will's breath was coming in quickly, he was panicking. Lestrade came up beside him and started applying pressure to one of the wrists. Will did the same for the other. "Why? Why kill yourself?"

Will hadn't expected an answer the old man said, "I am . . . forgiven. Mark has forgiven me . . . and I am free at last."

He was slipping, the ambulance wouldn't get there in time. As he died, an almost peaceful look came across his face. But there was sadness there as well. Before he became unconscious, he whispered one last word. "Sorry."

Lestrade didn't even appear to have heard the man but Will had and it hit him right in the chest. He understood this man so well. It wasn't some crazy obsession, he hadn't enjoyed killing the _people_. He'd enjoyed the fact that he thought he was somehow destroying that woman who he thought killed his friend. He hadn't wanted to kill necessarily, he'd just wanted justice and he felt like he'd finally gotten it.

By the time the paramedics got there, he was already dead.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Thank you for the lovely feedback. I'm truly enjoying writing this.**

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Will was sitting on the edge of an ambulance. The blood on his hands had been cleaned away but his cloths were now permanently stained. He'd have to throw them away when he got a chance. He'd talked to one other cop but besides that, had remained silent. He hoped the next person to approach him would be Hannibal. Will was shocked to see that it instead was John.

"Hey Mr. Graham. How are you?"

"You . . . you can just call me Will," he finally said. It wasn't that chilly outside but his arms were wrapped tightly around him. "Where's Sherlock Holmes?"

"Talking to Lestrade. Don't worry, he won't come and bother you again. I made sure of it."

"You didn't have to do that," said Will as he looked down. "I can handle it. I'm used to people acting pretty rude towards me."

"Shouldn't have to be. You seem nice enough," John replied.

Will gave a quick glance towards John. He had no reason to be nice to Will and yet he was. It was nice and a little odd at the same time. Hannibal was really the only other person who had seemed to fully accept him despite everything. There was of course Abigail as well but she had taken time. The friendship with Hannibal had appeared practically overnight.

"So I guess you'll be leaving now?" asked John.

"Not immediately but pretty soon, yes," answered Will. "There will probably be some small investigation into the man just to make sure he did commit suicide and it wasn't anyone else but it's pretty obvious what happened."

"Yeah, Lestrade told me what happened. Quick finish for the case. Are you happy about getting to go back home so soon?" John questioned.

"Yeah, I miss . . . familiarity. I really miss my dogs, not so much the house but my dogs. As annoying as Jack can be, I miss him too. And Dr. Bloom," added Will.

"At least you didn't come over alone," John said. "That probably wouldn't have been to fun.

Will nodded in silent agreement. His mind flitted to Abigail for a few seconds but then it rested on the thought of Hannibal. Having him here made everything better.

Then, as if on cue, Hannibal was suddenly beside him. He placed his hand on the small of Will's back and asked softly, "How are you feeling Will?"

"I'm fine right now," Will replied, resisting the urge to reach up and grab some part of the psychiatrist, to take hold of his anchor.

"We'll have to buy some new cloths," Hannibal mused, looking over Will.

"This isn't the only thing I brought. You don't have to get me anything," replied Will. On several occasions when Will's cloths had been ruined, Hannibal had bought him new ones. He appreciated it but he didn't want to seem like a burden.

"We can argue about this later. Can you leave now? I have a cab waiting for us," said Hannibal.

"Um, yeah. I'll talk to Lestrade tomorrow."

"Good. Dr. Watson," Hannibal finished, giving a small nod to John.

"Dr. Lecter," John said in return and then went to go find Sherlock.

Keeping his hand on the small of Will's back, Hannibal guided him to where the cab was waiting. As they got in, Hannibal said, "We'll go by the hotel and you can go get yourself cleaned up. I'll get you something to eat. I'm sure you haven't eaten all day."

So far, the few times they'd gone out to eat had been at restaurants. Will couldn't help but raise an eyebrow and say, "You're actually risking getting take out?"

"I never said I'd eat it. And as much as I distaste it, I know you don't mind it and I doubt you want to go out to eat, even after cleaning up."

Will quickly nodded in agreement.

When they got at the hotel, Hannibal made the cabby keep the car there, waiting until Will was inside. Then he finally went off to do the perilous task of getting food from either a fast food place or a simple grocery store.

It didn't take to long and Hannibal soon had two bags in his hands when he came back to the hotel. He wasn't hungry having eaten not long ago but he was sure Abigail would want something as well. However, before he even opened the door to the room with his keycard, he could already tell something was wrong.

Placing the two bags on the ground, he strained his ears, trying to hear anything. Even if Will and Abigail had both gone to bed he would've been able to hear the creaking of a bed or the heavy breathing of Will as he had a nightmare. But there was nothing.

No footsteps, shower, TV, or anything else was making a sound. Hannibal, for a brief moment, wondered if they had both been killed. He hadn't been gone long enough for the bodies to start letting off any foul odors but he quickly threw that idea away. It didn't make sense in this situation.

Even if they had been killed, or at the very least tied up, Hannibal would've been able to hear the intruder as well but there wasn't any sound. Though he was positive no one was in the room, Hannibal's movements were slow and deliberate as he entered the room.

There wasn't anyone there and Hannibal allowed himself to relax ever so slightly. At first, he didn't think there had been any kind of struggle until he saw that the lamp was different. Someone had replaced it, most likely because it had been broken in a fight. Interesting, somebody had put the room back together.

Other than the fact that the little living room area had been slightly rearranged, there weren't any other clues. He then walked into the bedroom and almost didn't find anything until he saw a small piece of paper lying on the little table between the two queen beds.

Bending over but not picking it up, Hannibal clearly saw that it was not Will's hand writing, even though it was signed in his name. It read:

_ Had a little business meeting. Brought Abigail with me. Won't be to long. –Will_

Underneath that, it included an address along with the words '_Come over if you don't want to wait_.'

Hannibal debated calling the police but decided against it almost immediately. Whoever had done this probably could've easily waited until Hannibal had gotten back and taken him as well. However, this person, or more likely persons, hadn't. It was a game. A game to see what Hannibal would try and he was willing to play.

Leaving the letter where it was and memorizing the address, Hannibal went into the hallway, grabbed the bags where he'd left them, and quickly placed them into the room before closing the door. He then went down and hailed another cab, quickly giving the man the address.

When Hannibal got there, he saw that on the outside it said it was a law firm. Opening the door to the lavish building, he saw the room he came in to was a waiting room. There was only two other people there. A man sitting in a chair and a woman behind a desk.

"May I help you?" she asked.

"I believe you can. I'm here to meet my friend Mr. Will Graham. He's having a business meeting at the moment."

"Down the hallways and up the stairs. Relay your message to the man in the second waiting room," she said.

Hannibal gave a small nod, curious if the entire 'firm' was just a hoax or if it was actually a place. And if so, how many people here knew what it really was? Speaking of which, what was it to begin with?

He followed the woman's directions and eventually made it upstairs. It was even nicer up here. However, the glamour was ruined by a man behind a large oak desk. He had on dirty, mud stained boots. He wore old, ripped jeans, a white shirt, and a leather jacket as well. A cigarette was in one hand and a gun in the other.

"You came quicker than we were expecting," he muttered with a puff.

"And who is it exactly that is expecting me?" asked Hannibal calmly.

The man frowned and growled, "What? No shouting? No yelling? Not even wondering where your friends are? No—"

"Tiger! Please just let man in!" cried out a high pitch voice behind two double doors.

The man rolled his eyes at the nickname and shouted back, "It's just Seb!" He turned back to Hannibal and gestured with the gun towards the doors. "Well go on then. Boss is waitin'."

"At least tell me his name before I go in."

"It's Jim. Jim Moriarty now get along. He's waitin' for you."


	6. Chapter 6

Hannibal stared at the smaller man in front of him. The most he could get out of looking at him was that he had good taste in suits. The man's hands were deep in his pockets as he sauntered up to Hannibal.

"Jim Moriarty. You can just call be Jim," he said, not offering a hand.

"Dr. Hannibal Lecter though I suppose you already knew that," replied Hannibal.

Jim smirked and said, "Of course. And I'm sure you're here because of good old Will and Abigail."

"Yes, though I'm still not sure why you'd take them. I'd be very much appreciated if you'd explain," Hannibal said.

"Well first off, I'd just like to say that I'm a great fan of your work. You've done some beautiful pieces."

Hannibal immediately knew Jim wasn't talking about any of his essays for psychology. He meant the murders that Hannibal had so delicately carried out for years upon years. "You mean you've been watching me."

"Yes but not for very long. Only after you got involved with Will Graham. I'm surprised I didn't pick up your trace earlier though. You're very interesting Hannibal. Especially your little sister Mischa."

For the first time in a long time, Hannibal froze. Not because of fear though, or anger, but in shock. He tried to figure out how Jim could know this, how he could have this information. However, that absence of anger disappeared as rage began to grow at what Jim said next.

"What did she taste like? Your sister? Sweet maybe? Did you eat her raw? Was she—"

"How do you know about that?" interrupted Hannibal. His voice only slightly raised but he might as well have been yelling.

"I have access to files the government doesn't even know exist. Granted, it took some time to find anything on you. I'll be honest, you're the hardest man I've ever had to find information on."

Taking a deep, aggravated breath, Hannibal said, "I'm sure you didn't want to simply discuss the topic of my sister with me. Why am I here?"

"Yes, you're right. This is mainly about Will Graham actually. You see, I'm not letting you leave the country."

"And how could you do that?"

"You don't understand do you. With a simple phone call I could have any plane drop from the sky. I could have any boat hit the bottom of the ocean, any car drive off a bridge. If I ask you to stay, you stay and I never ask twice," Jim replied, his voice turning deadly soft.

"Alright then. Saying that I do agree to not leave the country, why do you even want us to stay? What do you want to do with Will?"

Jim smiled and started walking round and round Hannibal, his smile reptilian like. "I only want to do what you've been working towards."

Hannibal frowned and practically growled out a response. "You want Will to kill someone. In cold blood."

"Don't sound so angry. I thought this was what you wanted for little Will," Jim replied with a pouty face.

"You don't understand. You can't just push him to murder. Yes, I'd like him to kill but I've been preparing him. I've been working him up for his first kill. If you push him to murder, it could completely break what I've been working towards."

Jim laughed, smirking at Hannibal. "That's another thing that interests me. You're just as smart as me. You're just as insane as me, whether you prefer that word or not. If I picked someone at random, anywhere in the world, you'd kill them without a flinch. It wouldn't matter if it was man, woman, or child. You might ask why, simply out of curiosity but you still wouldn't have any qualms over it."

"And your point in this is?"

"If I asked you to kill Will or Abigail you wouldn't do it. Not at first anyway. Nevertheless, once you had killed them, you would feel some form of sorrow. I'm guessing Abigail reminds you of your sister, or at least what you think she'd be like at that age. And Will has the ability to understand you. Perhaps he already does. You'd rather not lose either of them."

"Now who's the psychiatrist," muttered Hannibal, glaring down at him.

"I'm only a professor, honest. I've just been watching long enough to figure this all out," replied Jim with a laugh.

"So there's nothing that I can do to go against you then? What if I went to the police?" Hannibal asked.

"I don't care, more fun for me," Jim replied with a simple smirk. "You can also tell Will of my little plan. I don't mind that either. I think it would be fun. Oh, and I won't tell Will your little secret. Don't worry, I'm not that mean," Jim said with a laugh.

Hannibal continued to glare at him and asked, "So where is Will? Abigail? Where are you keeping them?"

Jim checked the watch on his wrist and said, "Right about now they're probably being moved to one of the office rooms down stairs. Come on. I'll take you to them."

Jim practically bounced out of the room, a happy grin on his face. Hannibal slowly moved behind him, trying to think if there was a way out of this. He glanced over at the man, Seb, who was simply staring at them as they left. Hannibal wondered if he'd ever be able to get through Jim by using him. However, he threw that idea away. He doubted that Jim was attached to anyone enough that he'd throw everything away to save them.

Now downstairs and standing outside an office door, Jim gestured forward. "Well go on. I'm sure they're waiting for you."

"And?"

"And what?"

"What do I do afterwards?"

"Go back to your hotel, go to the police, call the FBI. I don't really care," Jim replied and then left, leaving Hannibal alone in front of the door.

Slowly, Hannibal pushed the door open. Before he could even see into the room, he could practically smell the fear rolling off of Will. However, when he fully opened the door, Hannibal saw that Will was protectively standing in front of Abigail. He was terrified and yet he was still willing to protect her.

Nevertheless, upon seeing it was Hannibal, Will visibly slackened in relief.

"Hannibal! What's going on? What—"

"Were leaving. Now. Come on," interrupted Hannibal as he grabbed hold of both Will and Abigail.

"But—"

"I know what I'm doing. Just follow my lead," Hannibal replied.

Hannibal pushed them both through the building until they got to the front. He knew that Jim wouldn't try to stop them. Both Abigail and Will seemed pretty shaken, Will more so than Abigail, but neither of them questioned Hannibal.

When they got to that front waiting room again, the woman didn't try to stop them. However, she did say with a hint of sarcasm, "I hope you had a nice meeting Dr. Lecter."

In response, Hannibal resisted the urge to just go over and kill her then and there.

When they were out the door and on the street in front of the building, Hannibal took Will's face in his hands before he could protest, quickly looking him over for any cuts or bruises.

"Are you alright Will?"

"Yes but—"

"I only asked if you were alright. Are you?"

"Yes," Will admitted reluctantly, wanting to question Hannibal further.

Hannibal then turned to Abigail. Doing very much the same thing he had done with Will. "And you Abigail? Are you hurt anywhere?"

"I am fine Hannibal," she said a little uncertainly. "What . . . what happened in there?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? What do you mean nothing?" asked Will, his voice rising. "We should go to the police. We should get help! We should—"

"What we should do is lay low. And William, you are not allowed out of my sight. Not for a minute. Do you understand me?" asked Hannibal. "_Never_ leave my sight."

Will froze, his Adam's apple moving up and down quickly. "This is about me. Isn't it? What happened? I have a right to know!"

"Not here and not now," Hannibal replied calmly. "Just promise me you won't leave my sight."

Will bit his lip, wanting to push the subject further and further but instead murmured, "I . . . I promise."

"Good. You to Abigail, though I'm not as worried about you," Hannibal admitted.

"Then this is all about Will?" she asked.

"For the most part, yes."

"But we can't just keep quite. If we don't tell Scotland Yard then the FBI—"

Hannibal stopped Will again, saying, "No. They would only complicate everything. Still, as much as I hate to admit it, I think I know someone who can help us."

"Who?"

"Mr. Holmes."

"Wait-why?! Out of everyone, why him?" asked Will, his voice full of panic.

"Just trust me on this," replied Hannibal. "Come on."

Despite hating the idea of even going near Sherlock again, Hannibal had a feeling that he and Jim Moriarty had encountered each other before. The way Jim had said 'go to the police' had made it seem like he wasn't actually referring to them. If Hannibal was right, and he usually was, Jim was actually hoping he'd go and bring Sherlock on to this. However, doing what Jim expected could be a bad or a good move.


	7. Chapter 7

Getting a cab, Hannibal took Will and Abigail to the residence of Sherlock Holmes. This time when the door was answered, John did so. He looked at the three of them, confused by their arrival.

"Uh, Sherlock's not in at the moment," John said.

"That's alright. We can wait. Do you mind if we come in?" asked Hannibal.

"No! Of course not," John replied, moving aside to allow them to pass.

He led them upstairs and gestured towards the chairs and couch. Abigail and Will sat down on the couch as Hannibal sat down in one of the chairs. John sat across from him.

John opened his mouth and then stopped as he looked over at Will and Abigail. He wasn't any Sherlock but bruises were beginning to form around both of their wrists as if they'd been roughly pushed around.

"Are you alright? Did someone ambush you? Try to kidnap you?" asked John worriedly, his eyes going wide.

Abigail looked down at her wrists, like she was just realizing they had appeared. Will pulled his arms closer to his body, trying to hide them while avoiding eye contact.

"They are both fine Dr. Watson and I will tell you what has occurred in a bit. However, I need ask you and Mr. Holmes something. What do you know about Jim Moriarty?" asked Hannibal. He watched as fear, shock, surprise, and anger flashed in John's eyes at the mention of the man's name.

"Moriarty," John murmured, as if by saying the name he was opening up his memory bank of him.

"So you do know of him. I believe you've met him too," Hannibal said.

"Met him. You say it like we had a meeting with him," said John with a sigh.

Hannibal detected the sarcasm in John's voice and said, "Then your encounter with the man was a stressful one, was it not?"

"He tried to blow us up. I'd say that's stressful enough for the average person," Sherlock suddenly replied, walking into the room.

"Then you did not find the situation stressful Mr. Holmes, seeing as you are not the average person," Hannibal said.

"No I did not but that's not the real question here," Sherlock responded. "The real question is why you are in my seat."

John rolled his eyes. "If you want to sit you can have my seat Sherlock."

"That's not the point John. He's in _my_ chair. That and he's crowded up my flat—"

"Our flat," corrected John.

"—with a bunch of mongrels," Sherlock finished.

"Now Mr. Holmes, how would you feel if I started insulting your pet?" asked Hannibal with a raised eyebrow.

"How would you feel if I appeared in your house with a hoard of people?" Sherlock shot back.

"Absurd," Hannibal replied. "You'd never be able to get in."

Flames lit up in Sherlock's eyes but before he could say anything else, John interjected. "Sherlock, now is not the time to fight. Moriarty has been in contact with Dr. Lecter. We need to figure out what he wants now. Maybe we can go to the police—"

"Police? That's absurd John. They would only get in the way," muttered Sherlock with a wave of his hand.

"We have an address—" Will tried to say but Sherlock stopped him.

"It doesn't matter. Whatever business he was hiding behind will either be gone once we get there or at least any trace of him will be. Besides, he was probably hoping you'd call the police and have an entire swat team go to the residence. Moriarty would certainly find it amusing, watching Scotland Yard scramble around only to find nothing."

"From the way he talked it seemed as if he'd prefer it if I went to you anyway," Hannibal included.

"So he talked to you then. Why would he talk to you? There's nothing special about you," Sherlock said.

Hannibal could tell Sherlock was lying though. The detective knew there was something off about Hannibal but he just couldn't figure it out. Sherlock knew that Hannibal knew this as well. Nevertheless, he continued talking, turning towards Will now.

"However you, you he would be interested in," Sherlock said, suddenly right in Will's face. "What did he want from you? What deal have you made?"

Sherlock was so close that the only way Will was able to avoided eye contact was by closing his eyes and he did just that. "I don't know!" he cried out. "I never saw him."

"Hey! Don't do that to Will! He doesn't like it when people get close," Abigail said angrily, pushing Sherlock back.

Shocked by this sudden act, Sherlock finally turned to really look at her. He quickly began muttering everything that he was deducing from her person and finished with, "You've killed a man."

Will, thinking that Sherlock was talking about her father immediately jumped in, all unease gone. "She did not! It was all her father's doing and no one else's. Garret Jacob Hobbs killed those girls on his own!"

Sherlock gave a huff and turned away, but not without giving one more look at Abigail. He was positive that what he was talking about and what Will was talking about were totally different events.

Hannibal had to give Abigail credited. Most others would've broken under the sudden accusation but Abigail remained perfectly calm. Not even a flicker of worry appeared in her eyes. Still, he didn't like how the detective had been able to know that right away. Thankfully, the case of Moriarty was more pressing to him and he let the matter go though it was doubtful he'd just forget it.

"So Moriarty only spoke to you," Sherlock said, turning to Hannibal again. "Why?"

"I am not sure."

"Don't try to pull the wool over my eyes. Why you? He must've done all this because of Will but if that's the case then why didn't he talk to him?"

"I suspect it's because he knew Will wouldn't be easy to talk to."

Frowning, Sherlock said, "Even if that is true, you still haven't told me what he wants with Mr. Graham."

Hannibal glanced over to where Will was sitting. Will looked up at him and softly spoke, "Hannibal, I need to know what he said."

Turning back to Sherlock, Hannibal said, "Alright. Moriarty wants to push Will to murder."

Will could feel ice grip him upon hearing the words leave Hannibal's mouth. Push him towards murder? The thought made him want to throw up, not because it disgusted him but because it appeased some darker part of him. There were plenty of people that he had thought of killing over the years.

Of course, it hadn't been how most people think of killing. While some might just think 'I hate them so much I could kill them,' Will could, and had, thought _exactly_ how he would kill them. It was one way he was able to keep his darker side in check by letting his mind play with these dark fantasies. They were the only things that Will had kept from Hannibal.

"Why would Moriarty want to push Will Graham to murder?" asked Sherlock.

"He's apparently been watching him for some time. He wants to see how long until Will breaks. I believe he finds him a challenge and . . . interesting at the same time," Hannibal replied.

Thoughts rose through Will's head as he tried to think of when he could've possibly been watched. He tried to remember if there had ever been anyone in particular that seemed to keep appearing but nothing came to mind.

"You should get out of London then," John said.

"Thank you for the suggestion Dr. Watson but Moriarty has already made it clear that the moment we try to leave the country he will kill us."

"What's your solution then?" asked Sherlock.

"Stay here, protect Will, and wait until Moriarty gets bored and allows us to leave," Hannibal replied simply.

Sherlock shook his head though and said, "It won't work. Moriarty doesn't get bored. He'll wait, and continue waiting, until it gets done."

"Then what do you suggest?" asked Hannibal.

"Well either Will would have to kill someone, be killed, or another person would have to take Moriarty's interest."

"Sherlock! How can you even suggest that? Those are all terrible ideas," cried out John.

"Except the last one. Sadly, it isn't very practical," remarked Hannibal.

John sighed and then looked over at Will. His hands were tightly clasped together, trying to calm himself down. Finally, he said, "I should tell Jack."

"I wouldn't advice that Will," said Hannibal.

"Why?"

"Good Uncle Jack would have the whole of the FBI burst down the English's door. He wouldn't stop until he got his fine China back. As good an idea it mind seem right now, I doubt Moriarty would appreciate the interruption and I'm sure you don't want Jack to get hurt."

Will seemed to mull this over in his mind and then finally gave a hesitant nod.

Abigail looked at him and then asked, "So there's nothing we can do?"

"Not at the moment dear Abigail. All we can do is wait and be careful," Hannibal replied. Then, turning to Sherlock, "Unless if you have a better idea of course."

Sherlock let out a huff and then finally said, "I have several but I doubt you would consider them _better_ ideas. For now, I think we should go with your plan. Keep Will within sight at all times. Even though they won't be much help, we're to few so I think we should contact Lestrade. I've done him enough favors so I'm sure he can spare a few officers off the record."

"Sounds good," said Hannibal. "Is that all?"

"I believe it is," Sherlock said. "I'd appreciate it now if you didn't barge into my flat ever again."

"Our flat," John muttered under his breath.

"Seems fair enough as long as you don't get in Will's face again. Argue with me all you want but leave Will out of it."

"Fine."

And with that, Hannibal, Will, and Abigail left Sherlock's apartment. No one noticed Seb on the other side of the street with his hat pulled low and jacket made tight around him. He grinned. It seemed this would be fairly entertaining for his boss.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Thanks again for the new followers and people who've favorited and/or reviewed. Hope you enjoy this next chapter.**

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Three days had passed and so far nothing. Sherlock had talked to Lestrade and he had agreed to lend a few men to watch the area around and near the hotel. However, he had made it clear that he couldn't do this for long without eventually putting it on record.

Now it was night and Hannibal sat in a chair, watching over Will. He had quickly discovered that he couldn't sleep.

Though he did not dream often, Hannibal's mind conjured up things most people would consider nightmares. Often enough, they would be him reliving the moments when he killed his food, watching the light leave their eyes. He actually enjoyed these types of dreams; they amused him.

However, on the first night after meeting Moriarty, Hannibal had woken up with a blanket of sweat covering his body. Neither Abigail nor Will had stirred and for that, he was thankful for.

Not a day had gone by where he hadn't thought of Mischa, his little sister. Those thoughts had been of happier times though. Hannibal, using all the might he could muster, had locked away every bad memory concerning his sister, putting bolts and locks and metal bars across the door in his mind. Moriarty had blown it all down in those few words.

_What did she taste like? Was she sweet?_

With legs crossed and a book in his hand, Hannibal went through another sleepless night. He could remain awake for very long periods of time but Hannibal knew that he was still human and he would eventually have to go to sleep again.

Though it looked very much like he was reading, Hannibal was actually in his mind palace at the moment. He was in his mother's room. Despite all the places he had gone, all the things he had seen, he still considered his mother's room the most beautiful place ever and it was still the first room you had to go in to enter his palace.

Hannibal walked down the large open hallways that stretched through the space. Over the years, his palace had grown considerably larger and it wasn't uncommon for him to visit it during uneventful days.

He had created a maze to make it harder for the darker memories of Mischa to escape and yet they had. Now Hannibal made his way, trying to round them up, to lock them away and never look at them again. The events of that dark winter started to circle him.

_Hannibal stood in front of his little sister, protecting her sick and fragile form from the larger men. He was only eight though and with a simple back hand he was on the ground. He jumped back up, trying to reach out to Mischa but one of the men grabbed him from behind, holding him back._

_ "Mischa!" he screeched, trying to get closer to her but unable to. "Mischa!"_

_ Her eyes, wet with tears as her little hands reached out to her brother. She was to young. So very very young. Her little voice cried out, still unable to say Hannibal's name correctly._

_ "'Annibal!"_

_ Hannibal reached for her but she was to far away. Another man came forward, the bowl in his hand that had, only days ago, held the blood of a deer._

_ "Mischa!" he cried out again and again._

_ She was held down on the table, held still even though she tried to thrash back and forth. The ax seemed to glint in the sunlight as it was hefted over someone's shoulder. The man got ready to bring it down._

_ "'Annibal!"_

_ "'Annibal!"_

"Hannibal!"

Hannibal rapidly blinked, only to find Will and Abigail in front of him, both with worried looks on their faces. Will was covered in sweat, making it obvious that he had woken from a nightmare once more. However, there was no fear in his eyes like there usually was after a dream, only worry for Hannibal.

"Are you alright Will?" Hannibal asked, ignoring the way they were looking at him. A sheen of sweat covered his face that he quickly wiped away.

"Me? Hannibal, I should be asking you if you're alright. You wouldn't respond for nearly two minutes," Will said.

"Yeah, Will was having a nightmare so I came to check on him but once he was awake I realized that it appeared that you hadn't heard him," said Abigail. "I thought you were asleep but your eyes were still open."

"I have been known to sleep with my eyes open," Hannibal replied, pushing himself up and going to where he'd stored his spare cloths. "I am perfectly fine. You can both go back to bed now."

Will made it look like he wanted to say something but Hannibal had already closed the bathroom door and started the shower.

The shower he took was quick but it helped to wash away the memories to. Hannibal remembered that as a child, he'd often wake, screaming Mischa's name. He was happy that he no longer made a noise. He didn't know how he'd explain that to Abigail and Will.

Finishing in the shower, Hannibal put on the new cloths and dried his hair. He walked out of the bathroom and was disappointed to find that Will and Abigail were both waiting for him. They sat on Will's bed, their faces making it clear that they weren't going to move until they had an answer.

"Really Abigail, you should be in bed now," Hannibal said, taking the book he had had before and sat in the chair again.

"Hannibal, what's wrong? I've never seen you do that before," Abigail replied instead.

"I am perfectly fine Abigail. Simply memories."

"Memories of what?" asked Will.

Hannibal glanced over and could easily imagine Will's horrified face if he told him the truth. He said, "Maybe I'll tell you one day."

Will frowned, not wanting to be pushy but also wanting to know what was wrong with Hannibal as well. "Please, tell me something. Was it, like, a nightmare?" It was hard to imagine Hannibal having a nightmare, but that was partially because Will didn't know anything of his pass.

With a sigh, Hannibal decided that telling a small piece of the truth would at least satisfy them. "it was about my sister."

He was shocked. Will had never thought of the possibility that Hannibal might have siblings. "A sister? Do you have any other—"

"No. She was several years younger than me. Her name was Mischa."

"Was? Hannibal is she—" Abigail tried but she was stopped.

"Yes, she is dead," Hannibal replied simply, "and that is all you'll get out of me tonight."

"But—"

Hannibal looked them both straight in the eyes. "No," he said softly, almost deadly. Abigail quickly saw that she had stepped her boundaries and began to retreat. Will on the other hand still seemed unaware of his.

"Hannibal what happened to her? What—"

"You said my first name," Hannibal interrupted, partially because he was surprised and also to get the subject away from his sister.

"Oh! I did. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"Dear William, I have used your first name plenty of times. I do believe it is about time you used mine as well," Hannibal replied simply.

"Are you-I mean-okay," Will finally finished.

Hannibal smiled and then said, "Now, I think it is time for both of you to go to bed. It is late and there is no need to stay up. We are fine."

"Even if you won't talk to us—"

It appeared Hannibal's deception hadn't worked as well as he'd thought.

"—I'm still not going to sleep. I'll have another nightmare again," said Will.

"You're tired, what little sleep you can manage you should take gladly," Hannibal replied.

Will shook his head and muttered, "I'd rather not."

"Then how about I read to you?" asked Hannibal.

"Can I listen too?" Abigail questioned.

"Of course."

Will seemed a little hesitant once Abigail agreed, especially when she jumped up beside him on the bed. However, see seemed happy enough so he didn't say anything and tried to make himself comfortable.

"Have you ever heard of E.M. Forster?" asked Hannibal as he pulled the chair closer.

"No," said Abigail and Will in unison.

"Well we must fix that then. He was an English writer in the early twentieth century. He wrote several novels, this one being called _Where Angels Fear to Tread_."

Hannibal began to read and despite saying he didn't want to fall asleep, Will soon did and Abigail as well. When he was sure both were asleep, he stopped reading to simply look at how peaceful they looked. It was a sight that Hannibal hadn't been able to see until then.

Hannibal began to read again, silent now, but stopped once he saw Will beginning to fidget. Before he could move to much though, Hannibal was already up and ready to help him. Running his hands through Will's hair, causing the younger to calm down, Hannibal began to think to himself.

_ I couldn't protect Mischa. I couldn't save her._

In her sleep, Abigail moved closer to Will.

_ I will not fail in protecting what is mine again._


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning, Abigail called Dr. Bloom to inform her of the fact that they would be staying longer. She answered on the second ring and said, "Hello Abigail."

"Hello Dr. Bloom," she said pleasantly. "How are you?"

"Fine. I've heard that the case was finished. I'm guessing you'll be back soon?"

"That's actually why I'm calling you. We've decided to stay a bit longer."

"Abigail, I don't think that's a good—"

"I'm my own person Dr. Bloom and you're not my psychiatrist anymore," Abigail said, stopping Alana before she could finish. "I just wanted to make sure that you'd continue to look after the dogs."

"Well of course but I think I should still talk to Will—" Alana tried but was stopped again.

"He's in the shower right now but I'll tell him you said hi. I'll tell Hannibal too," Abigail said.

"Alright. Good bye then Abigail."

"Good bye Dr. Bloom."

Abigail could hear the uncertainty in Alana's voice as she hung up and she hoped dearly that Alana wouldn't try to come over to London now. Abigail was alright with Alana, she was only being a good friend after all, but she was a bad influence on Will and Abigail wouldn't have that. For now anyway, the less contact Will had with her the better.

She never did tell Will Alana had called.

That morning, Abigail had thought it quite funny how Will had become flustered at finding Abigail curled up beside him. She knew he'd eventually get use to the idea, like the hugging. It would just take time.

When Will got out of the shower, Hannibal gave him his phone and said, "I think it's about time you call Jack and tell him we won't be back for a little while."

Will nodded in agreement and took his phone, putting his dirty cloths away before calling.

"Will, I was wondering when you'd call," Jack said, answering the phone right away. "When will your flight arrive?"

"I'm actually not coming back. Not right away anyhow," Will replied.

"You mean you're staying? Will—"

"Jack, every time a case pops up you have me look at it _and_ I have classes as well that I have to teach. I've never had a vacation, I think it's about time I've had my first."

"What if the Chesapeake Ripper shows up again?"

"Jack, he's gone again. There hasn't been another murder in nearly a month now. He's not coming back for a while," Will answered.

Jack knew what Will said was true, he just didn't want to believe it. Nevertheless he sighed and said, "Alright. I'll inform the academy that they'll need to keep that substitute teacher for a bit longer. Is Dr. Lecter and Ms. Hobbs staying with you?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I'll see you sometime soon then Will. Good bye."

"Good bye," replied Will and he hung up the phone. As he did so, he let out a tired sigh and rubbed his eyes.

"Did you not sleep well Will?" asked Hannibal.

"I slept fine. It's just that this whole situation has me on edge," Will muttered. Then, blushing slightly, "You're reading did actually help Dr. Lec-I mean Hannibal. Thank you."

"Anytime Will," Hannibal said, smiling now that Will was using his first name.

"We should go somewhere," Abigail suddenly piped up. "There's no use in staying cooped up in the hotel. Besides, I'm sure you can keep an eye on Will."

"What do you say to that Will?" asked Hannibal. "It's your chose whether we do something or not."

"Um," Will looked at Abigail's begging face and gave in, looking down at the ground and biting his lip. "Alright. Where do you want to go?"

"Let's see some of the sites. Like Big Ben and the Eagle Eye," she said excitedly.

They ended up doing just that, Hannibal keeping Will right beside him at all times. His eyes always wondering, he was often looking more at the people than the buildings and landmarks that they were around. Every time there was even a change that someone suspicious might be there, Hannibal would put his hand on the small of Will's back, making him aware of the possible threat.

None of the threats ever became real though. They went through the entire day and not once did anything happen. They had lunch and dinner, Hannibal finding some exquisite restaurants but still dearly missing his kitchen back home.

Hannibal read once more to Will that night. Will was to shy to ask for him to do it so Hannibal volunteered instead. Abigail sat beside Will, falling asleep next to him again as well.

That night, Hannibal slept for about two hours before he woke up, his sister's screams still ringing in his ears. That was the only sleep he got in two days.

Several more days passed, very similar to this where nothing out of the ordinary seemed to happen. Hannibal, Will, and Abigail would go out, do a few things together, have lunch and usually dinner, and then come back to the hotel.

However, all of them had only packed a certain amount of cloths and it soon became clear that they would have to do laundry soon. Will volunteered to go down to the hotel's laundry room that was for guests but Hannibal wasn't so sure.

"Hannibal, I'm not going to even leave the hotel. I will be perfectly fine. And Lestrade has men set up outside as well. There's no need to worry," Will said with a sigh. "I'll even take my cell phone with me. See? I'll call you if anything comes up."

Hannibal shook his head at that but didn't stop Will as he left the room. Abigail was reading while Hannibal took out his i-pad and once again, began a search on James Moriarty. Just like before, nothing came up which Hannibal wasn't too surprised about.

After about ten minutes had gone by though, his cell phone began to ring. Hannibal immediately began to regret letting Will go alone as he answered it. "Yes?"

"Really Hannibal. You must take better care of your pets," Moriarty said from the other side.

Hannibal was already up and out of the hotel room, a startled Abigail quickly running behind him. Hannibal was running down to where the laundry was, knowing full well that Will wouldn't be there. However, he didn't expect there to be absolutely nothing and he knew that it was to late to try and find Will now .

When they arrived, Hannibal wasn't disappointed. In one of the washers, the water was dyed red as pieces of flesh seemed to be mixing together like some bloody slushy.

"So who's the poor chap that's stuck in the washer?" Hannibal asked into the phone.

"You do run fast don't you. It's not poor Will if that's what you're thinking. Just some woman who happened to be in the room with Will. It was better to simply kill her," Moriarty replied.

Hannibal smirked at that, having to admit that it would be something he himself would probably do. "I will find him. I won't let you hurt Will."

"I'm not going to hurt Will! Good lord, it's not my goal ha ha. I told you. I just want him to kill someone," Moriarty replied.

"Forcing him into murder is hurting Will."

"That's what you think. For being so heartless yourself you really are careful with Will's own. I'm sure we'll speak again soon Dr. Lecter," said Moriarty as he then proceeded to hang up.

Hannibal sighed, starting to dial Lestrade's number as he looked over at Abigail. At first, she had been shocked at the sight in front of her but she had eventually gotten over that and was now closer to the washer. She watched the load go round and round, careful not to touch anything.

She glanced over at Hannibal. "We don't have time to clean this up do we."

"No, or the tools," he replied just as Lestrade picked up. Before he could say anything though, a scream ripped through someone's throat and Hannibal turned around, only half interested. He just barely caught the sight of what was probably a man running screeching out of the room.

"Dr. Lecter! What's happened? Who was that!?" cried out Lestrade from the other end.

Hannibal sighed and said, "Just some by stander with a poor stomach. I don't know how but Will's gone. Moriarty got to him and now there's a woman rolling round and round in a washing machine."

After some silence on Lestrade's end, the detective then said, "I've got men on my way. Have you touched anything?"

"No. We'll meet you in the lobby," Hannibal replied and hung up. He turned to Abigail. "Come now Abigail. We'll leave the rest for the police and I'm sure Sherlock will come as well."

A small pouty face came upon Abigail's face but she followed Hannibal out. Hannibal closed the door and as the manager came forward do to the screaming man, Hannibal quickly explained what was going on.

As they left the people behind, Abigail glanced over to Hannibal and whispered, "Can we try that sometime?"

"Now Abigail, this is not the time," Hannibal murmured in a chiding voice. "We'll discuss that later. Will is first priority at the moment."

"Of course, sorry," she said. Abigail knew she'd always be second to Will. Will was in danger, therefore any fun that Abigail thought up would have to wait until later. Despite what some would think, Abigail was perfectly fine with being second best though, as long as Hannibal was proud of her.

Besides, she was worried about Will too.


	10. Chapter 10

Sebastian sat, fingers crossed and feet crossed at the ankles. Will Graham lay on the couch, completely knocked out and would probably remain so for at least a few more hours. There was a cut on Will's forehead, how he'd been knocked out at first, though they had later given him a sedative.

As Jim walked through the room, Seb muttered, "At first it was Sherlock this and Sherlock that. Now it's Will this and Will that."

"Feeling a bit underappreciated Tiger?" asked Jim with a smirk.

"Well duh."

Jim just shook his head at that, amused by Seb's pouting face. "I don't like messing with you Tiger."

"Bullshit. Of course you do."

"Oh, you're right. I nearly forgot. But I will admit; I do enjoy watching you kill more so than I like messing with you head."

"I'm flattered," Seb replied with a roll of his eyes. "Now, what's the plan? You never told me."

"Just watch and wait," said Jim. "It's more fun that way."

On the couch, Will twitched and Jim smiled. It was time to move dear Will.

It had probably been over kill on Moriarty's part but he had wanted to toy with Will quite a bit. They were no longer in London, out in the country where they wouldn't be so bothered. Moriarty had Seb drop Will off in the middle of some forested land with nothing but a knife and a radio.

Jim sat at a desk in a large mansion, one of many that Jim 'owned.' He had the walky-talky in his hands, twirling it round and round. It would be some time before Will actually awoke but Jim couldn't wait until he did.

He murdered a worthless henchman to kill some time.

Out in the forest, hours later, Will finally woke up. He tried to stand but he fell back down, his head aching and his eyesight blurry. Staying where he'd fallen, he tried to get a hold of himself, to calm down. Slowly, his last few memories were coming back to him.

God, why hadn't he listened to Hannibal? He hadn't thought anything would happen! Will hadn't even left the hotel and now he was god knows where.

Will looked around and finally spotted the knife and walky-talky near him. Slowly, he got back onto his feet. He was still unsteady but at least he remained upright this time. He ignored the knife and went straight to the walky-talky.

"Hello?" he whispered, voice soft and slightly hoarse. "Hello?"

An unfamiliar voice replied back. "Ah, little William. You're finally awake, wonderful. I'm Jim Moriarty. It is wonderful to finally talk to you."

"Moriarty," Will breathed. He gulped in the air and asked, "Where am I?"

"Now Will, that wouldn't be any fun if I told you. And call me Jim, please," replied Moriarty. "I'm sure you haven't picked up the knife yet. Pick it up."

Will looked down at the knife, not wanting to even poke it.

"I said pick it up!"

The sudden shout caused Will to jump, dropping the walky-talky. He quickly picked it back up, along with the knife. "I-I pi-picked it up."

"Good. Now, do you know what I want you to do with the knife?"

"You want-want me to kill someone."

"I see good Hannibal has told you then."

"Yes. Why?"

"Why what?" asked Jim. He knew exactly what Will was asking but he liked listening to him squirm.

"Why do you want me to do this? To kill someone?"

"Because you are simply _bursting_ with wonderful ideas. Little techniques that, if you took the time, could be used against anyone of your choice. There's darkness in you Will and yet you keep hiding it. I'm simply trying to open you up to it. A little quicker than Hannibal would prefer but nonetheless—"

"What did you just say?"

"Do not interrupt me!"

Despite Jim's enraged yell, Will was actually able to ignore it and yelled back. "What did you just say?! About Hannibal? What was it?!"

"Just that his goal is the same as mine," spit out Jim. "Yes I know you don't believe me, but he's been cultivating your darkness for quite some time."

"That's not true."

Jim rolled his eyes, not that Will could see that, and muttered, "Shut up and actually see for once. You really think a man like Hannibal Lecter would honestly be so friendly with you because he has fun chatting with you about your problems and your dogs?"

"He still wouldn't do it. He's a good man."

"A good man! My god, I know I said I wouldn't tell you this but you're so blind that I just have to. Hannibal is nothing like you are thinking. He's a complete monster. Just like me and hopefully after this little exercise you'll realize that you're one too."

Will was breathing heavier now, still not wanting to believe Moriarty. He needed to change the subject. "How do you even think you'll force me to kill? I could just runaway."

Jim nearly laughed at Will's pitiful attempt to change the subject but he actually went along with it. "I have men stationed all around the forest. Whoever you come across, kill them. If you don't kill them, then they'll kill you. Sadly, that's more defense than simple murder so I'd prefer it if you killed them before you had a good reason to."

"Why would your men simply lay down their lives to be killed for nothing? Why?"

This time Moriarty did laugh. "Why do you think I keep a tiger by my side? Everyone else that works for me are simply dogs. Nothing more. A tiger is loyal beyond belief but if the ship is sinking then he'll jump off. A dog will stay if you tell it to, even when the water starts to rise. Good luck Will. I'll be with you every step of the way."

"So you're watching me right now?" questioned Will. There wasn't an answer. "Hello? Hello?"

Taking a shaky breath, Will looked around him, at the unmoving branches and the dark undergrowth. He felt utterly alone at that moment, no matter what Jim said. He had no food, no water. If someone didn't find him he would die.

Unless if he ate a body after killing it.

Will fell against a tree, just barely able to catch him. His breath caught in his throat, finding it hard to believe that the thought had come from his own head. Even if he was dying, Will was sure he'd never be able to actually eat someone.

Or so he thought. His mind seemed to be telling him otherwise. He started when Moriarty's voice sounded again.

"You alright there Will? You don't seem to be doing very much."

Will ignored him. He didn't want to talk to Moriarty and keeping the walky-talky only allowed the man to poison Will's mind further. Nevertheless, if he threw it away, that would be his last connection to the outside world and then he'd really be alone. He felt sick, just thinking it, but he'd rather have a mad man's company than simply his own.

He began to move once more. Where Will thought he was going he didn't have a clue. He just had to keep moving. That was it. The entire day it seemed like he hadn't moved though. Will had heard a single animal and for all he knew he could've been walking in circles. Everything looked the same. Nothing to suggest that he was actually making progress.

It was getting dark and there wasn't anything that would help keep Will warm through the night. He shivered, still walking when he suddenly saw a light. He remembered what Moriarty had said, about his men being like dogs. Maybe Will would get lucky though. Maybe this one was different and wouldn't try to kill Will without a single thought.

Cautiously, Will moved forward. As he came closer, he saw a fire burning and one man sitting by it, warming his hands. He couldn't see any weapons in the man's hands but he couldn't be sure. It was dark.

Will kept walking towards him and softly cleared his throat. There wasn't any reaction. Will did it again, trying to get the man's attention without being to obvious. Finally he just said, "Please I just—"

But Will didn't get to finish his sentence as he was rushed at. Will quickly moved to the side, the man missing him with a swing. Something glinted in his hands it was obvious that it was a knife as well.

Will's heart beat rapidly in his chest as he dodged and tried to gain his footing on the wet leaves. The man came at him again and they both fell to the forested floor. Will didn't waste his time yelling for help; it was doubtful anyone would hear.

As they struggled, Will thought of running for it but even if he could, this man was clearly stronger and would easily be able to catch up with Will.

He tried to get a better grip on his own knife, tried to situate it so that it would drive into the man's stomach. It was knocked from his hands however and soon the other knife was coming at Will's face. He caught his arm, trying to keep it from going any lower but it was hard. The knife began to prick Will's cheek, a bead of blood welling up.

Finally he kicked at him and the man loosened his grip enough for Will to grab at the knife's handle and pry the man's fingers away. He kicked again and the man fell backwards, immediately getting up again only to go right into the knife in Will's hands.

Will thought it was over. He thought the man was done but he was so very wrong. From what he could see in the little light, the man was bleeding badly from the stomach wound and yet he began to move forward again despite it.

This time, Will trusted forward, actually hitting him. It took to more cuts before the man fell, still alive but to weak to get up. His breath coming in and out rapidly, blood came to the man's lips, blocking the passage of air.

Will panicked. He tried to kneel next to the man and try to stop the bleeding but he only struggled, trying to hurt Will. He was like an animal, utterly primal.

Backing away, the bloody knife still in his hands, Will sat by the fire, not sure what to do or think. He'd killed before, Garret Jacob Hobbs being a prime example, but he'd never killed with a knife. He realized probably the biggest reason guns were so popular was because it made you feel like you hadn't actually done the killing.

A knife didn't give you that pleasure. It got you up close and personal, allowing you to watch and feel the life leave your victim.

Victim. Was that what this man was to Will? He couldn't tell anymore.

"I'd clean your knife now. Wouldn't want it to rust now would we?" Moriarty then said, his voice coming through the walk-talky which had been miraculously unscathed from the fight. Moriarty watched on hidden cameras throughout the forest at the GPA tracking system that he was using to see Will.

Wordlessly, his face still frozen in shock, Will wiped the blade onto his shirt. Beside him, the fire flickered and the man's last breath escaped his lips.


	11. Chapter 11

All day the police were there, looking for hair and fingerprints, going through security cameras, and asking people if they saw anything at all. The fact that it was a hotel wasn't helping though. People had been going in and out of the laundry room for years and it was unlikely that they'd find any actual evidence.

Sherlock was there as well but even he was having trouble finding anything of value so far. Hannibal and Abigail had each told their story, nearly identical, to Lestrade and several other officers.

Though Hannibal had wanted to keep Jack out of it, he was a bit annoyed by the fact that Lestrade had already called and told him what happened. Jack was coming over, along with several other FBI agents and would probably be there before dawn.

Dr. Bloom hadn't been informed of what had happened yet so that was at least one less person to worry about.

The security tapes had been messed with by someone and skipped over the time where Will went into the laundry room. They'd already been taken to Scotland Yard so they could try and find the missing part but it would take considerable time.

John was there as well and glanced over to where Sherlock was pacing back and forth. "I'll just apologize right now. Sherlock isn't really enjoying this."

"I can see that," muttered Hannibal. "This is frustrating for everyone, I will admit that."

John nodded and turned to Abigail. "Are you alright? That must've been quite a shock—"

"I've seen worse," she replied with a slight shrug of her shoulders, her face completely impassive.

John nodded in acknowledgement, not quite sure how to respond to that. They watched as Anderson opened his mouth to make some stupid comment but before he could even say anything Sherlock shouted at him to remain quite. He was fuming but at the same time seemed giddy. He was angry that Moriarty had gotten away at this; he was excited about trying to figure out the problem.

Time continued to pass and many police officers began to leave though a few were left behind. Hannibal knew they were pointless though. Moriarty had taken Will. That had been all he'd wanted to do. Now the question was could they find him in time?

Hannibal honestly doubted it. He checked his watch and it was already past twelve. Moriarty definitely would've tried something by now. All he could do was wait and that made him easily irritated. No one would've thought this fore on the outside he looked utterly impassive. Really, it just meant that he was thinking about creating a bigger dinner than usual.

When Jack got there, it didn't help that for about thirty minutes Hannibal simply listened to him complain about being kept out of the loop. Abigail was lucky in that aspect. She got to easily slip away and back to the room.

* * *

A day, or what seemed like a day anyway, passed for Will and in it, he had already killed three more men, not including the first one. It was taking a toll on his body and mind as he moved closer to the fire. It burned his hands but he didn't care anymore.

It was a little past midday now but he was shivering now. Not only had he lost his light jacket but he'd also fallen into a stream. At least had been able to get some water but his stomach continued to growl. Will tried to ignore it as best he could, the pain from his burnt hands distracting him.

It really hadn't even been that long and already Will was teetering towards the edge.

No one was there. No one would ever find him. Why not have some fun? Why not live his life out with zero restraints from the law? It was tempting, and would've been so much easier, but Will kept fighting the darkness nonetheless.

He still had the walky-talky but Moriarty hadn't said anything for hours, not even a snide little remark. Will was pretty sure it had been broken in the last fight but he still kept it with him. It helped to remind him that there was an outside world still and that he couldn't just do whatever he wanted.

Will found that he was constantly having trouble breathing. He didn't know why. He'd checked his body several times but there weren't any wounds that might cause hard of breath and Will had been in the same position for quite some time now.

The knife in his hands glinted and his breath came quicker. After finding the stream, it was clean again but all Will could see was it dripping in blood. He'd tried to wipe it clean numerous times, on his shirt, on leaves and trees, but to Will's mind it remained dripping red.

The day passed and it seemed as if Will wouldn't have to kill anyone again but that thought had come to soon. A man stood in front of him and slowly, Will rose from the forest floor.

He'd stopped trying to talk to any of them now. Really, he thought Moriarty had been to kind in calling them dogs. That made you think that at least they had some individuality. These men were no longer even animals though, all the same. Will had stopped seeing different features like hair color and skin shade. They wore all the same face to him.

The man moved forward and Will took a step toward him as well. His breathing had finally slowed, calm and uninterrupted. The knife was out and the man could clearly see it; he began to show his own.

Will rushed forward before he could actually get at it. He was to far away though and it only cut across the mid section of the chest. Pushed forward, Will kicked the guy in the stomach knocking him down. He straddled him, one hand around his throat, the other above his head with the knife.

When the knife came down, Will's hand was shaking so badly that he didn't even break the skull. A long cut was now in the skin and the skull was probably cracked but the man was still alive, thrashing and screaming beneath Will.

Coming down again, the knife cut into the man's cheek, cutting the right side open and two the mouth. The third time the knife hit the man it off part of his nose.

It was at this point that Will realized that his hand hadn't been shaking at all. He'd been aiming for every spot he'd hit. He had been trying to hurt the man as much as he could before killing him.

Slower this time, Will brought the knife close to his face and pricked him. He was more conscious of his actions this time. He wasn't trying to kill the man and he knew this. The man kicked and screamed underneath Will but he stood his ground and continued to slowly move the knife of the man's face.

"In cold blood," Will murmured. If he killed this man now, it would be in cold blood. He hadn't even given the man a chance to fight back and already he was torturing him. He continued to whisper to himself, "No one will see. No one will find me. Alone. Alone."

Will dug the knife into one of the eyes and plucked it out like it was nothing. He appeared to examine it for a few moments and then flung it to the side. Finally, looking at the bloody mass that had once been a man scream and kick, he decided to kill him. He positioned the knife just so and then, with one final push, drove it through the empty eye socket.

The man gave one last shudder and then was still.

When he didn't move, Will's problem with breathing came back. He couldn't calm down, couldn't seem to slow his heart. The killing had calmed him. The murder and made him feel peaceful but it shouldn't have and now Will was panicking. He fell off the man and on to the ground next to him, clutching at his chest.

Tears fell from his eyes, unwelcomed but they still fell. Will knew that he couldn't go back now. He was such a piece of trash, no better than any of the men or women he'd caught. If anyone ever did find him, and he hoped they wouldn't, he be put behind bars.

Whether it was with arms free or in an armless shirt would be desired later but his life was over. That was all that mattered.

Nevertheless, as he lay there, Will didn't feel like himself and at the same time, felt more like himself than he had ever had in his life. He felt liberated and free but also cursed and filthy. He wondered how someone like Moriarty could go on living each day like this, with this feeling crushing on him. Maybe he didn't feel the filth, the curse that circled him like Will did.

Or maybe the only difference was that Will feared and hated this disgusting side of himself while Moriarty cherished it.


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: Thanks again to new followers and people who have favorited and reviewed. Hope you enjoy this next chapter. Remember, reviews are greatly appreciated ^^.**

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Four long, uneventful days had passed and neither Scotland Yard nor the FBI could find anything. Sherlock hadn't given up, but he had made his thoughts extremely clear to everyone.

"Moriarty has cleaned everything up. He's not going to drop any evidence until he's through with little Will. Or he'll just send his body back in a bag."

"Sherlock, will just stop it!" yelled out John. "Will could actually _be_ dead and all you can do is laugh about it."

"Why be so sentimental? Really John, you haven't even known him for a week," Sherlock muttered, arms crossed.

Hannibal moved to block Sherlock's view, barely inches away from him. "Let me ask you a question then, how would you feel if John had been taken from you? Had been taken by Moriarty and you didn't know what would happen to him?"

"I don't have to," spit out Sherlock and for the first time Hannibal saw some real emotion.

This slight change interested Hannibal. He had been sure that Sherlock didn't care about anyone and yet it appeared that he'd do just about anything for John. The things Sherlock were saying weren't meant to hurt John. To him, he was just stating facts.

Simply to prove this, Hannibal said, "Then I doubt you would be acting so rude if our positions were switched."

"What do you mean rude? I'm saying a fact. John hasn't known Will for very long at all. Even for him it's surprising how sentimental over this entire thing he's become."

Yep, Hannibal had been right.

On the other side of the room, Jack said, "I'm surprised you finished that murder so quickly if they were acting like this before. Were they?"

"Worse," answered Lestrade with a sigh. He turned to Sherlock and asked, "What did you mean Moriarty isn't going to drop any evidence until he's done with Will?"

"I mean he cleaned everything up. That's why you're not finding anything," muttered Sherlock with a role of his eyes. "When he's done with Will, he'll probably drop some type of evidence somewhere that will lead us to him. Of course, I wouldn't be surprised if he simply sent a letter but remember; but this is all a game to him."

Lestrade nodded in understanding and then began to look around, trying to find something to do. He had already figured out what Sherlock had just said, he just hadn't wanted to believe it. Being one of the main detective inspectors, whenever he found himself lost or in unknown territory was never good.

Jack however, seemed less assured by Sherlock's words. He trusted Lestrade well enough. They'd worked side by side enough for Jack to give him that. However, no matter how many cases he'd solved, from the way he was acting now Jack just didn't believe him.

"He can't get rid of everything. There's got to be—"

"Well of course there's always some type of evidence but we don't have that kind of technology yet," Sherlock replied with a wave of his hand.

"Now listen here! My agent—"

"He's not an actual agent. To unstable or something," Sherlock corrected.

"That's beside the point!" yelled out Jack. "Will is in serious trouble and I will not sit on my hands and do nothing."

"Then run around looking like an idiot because that's all you can do," said Sherlock. "If it makes you feel any better, it's doubtful Moriarty will kill him."

"There are plenty of things worse than death," muttered Jack.

"Is that all your worried about? Torture? Or are you worried that Moriarty might finally break him?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean," Sherlock snapped. "You're afraid that Moriarty will be able to twist Will around his finger and warp him into whatever he wants."

Hannibal narrowed his eyes at this. He already disliked the situation but he really didn't like Sherlock's way of putting it. Hannibal said, "Will is stronger than you think Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock looked at him and opened his mouth, making it clear that he was getting ready to make some snarky comment back at him but before he could finish Hannibal had him by his forearm and dragged him out of the room and away from the other people.

"What was that?" cried Sherlock, ripping his arm away in anger and annoyance.

"What were you about to say in there?"

"I'm sure you already know. You're his psychiatrist after all," muttered Sherlock. "He has the very making of a serial killer. I'm sure Jack Crawford knows this by now."

"Subconsciously yes, but he doesn't want to believe it," replied Hannibal.

"Then why just not let—you're protecting him aren't you."

Hannibal raised an eyebrow. "I assure you, Jack doesn't need protecting from me."

"I'm not talking about him. I'm talking about Will," replied Sherlock, looking over him. He felt like he nearly had Hannibal but not quite. "It's like when you were protecting Abigail."

"I'm sorry but I don't remember protecting Abigail at all."

"When I mentioned that she had killed someone."

"You're thinking of Will," Hannibal corrected him. "If you remember, he corrected you and said that it was her father who committed the murders."

"Maybe so but I saw you both looking at each other. You were clearly giving her some type of advice, making sure she stayed quit and didn't do anything out of the ordinary. The same goes for Will. You don't want anyone to realize how broken he is," Sherlock said.

"I assure you, Will is not broken."

Sherlock smirked and replied, "That's how you describe him. I'm positive that you truly think that as well but to most others I doubt they would agree. I wonder, have you told him about Abigail? About her murders?"

"She hasn't committed any," Hannibal responded.

If Sherlock hadn't already analyzed the girl, he would've been tempted to believe Hannibal. Nothing in his face gave him away. Even in the best of liars, Sherlock could spot little mishaps that gave them away. With Hannibal there was nothing, just a blank page.

Finally, with a huff, Sherlock said, "I won't tell anyone. Your Americans, not my problem, but I will figure you out Hannibal Lecter."

A small smirk appeared on Hannibal's lips as he said, "I don't know whether to consider that a threat of a compliment."

"Call it both," Sherlock replied and left.

Hannibal stayed for about thirty more minutes but then went back to the hotel. He wanted to discuss a few things with Abigail. He found her in the room just as he had expected, splayed out on the couch and reading a book.

"Hello Abigail."

She looked up. Abigail had learned to hear the questions in Hannibal's voice even if he didn't speak them himself. "What is it?"

"I need to talk to you about Sherlock Holmes," said Hannibal as he sat down beside her.

She pulled her feet in and closed her book, a sad, forlorn, look coming on her face. "Are you thinking of killing me?"

Hannibal sighed and replied, "Abigail, if I was I would simply tell you out right. No, I do not plan on killing you."

"But Sherlock's figured it out hasn't he? My secret? What about yours? Does he know it yet?"

"Not mine, no. So far, I believe that he just wants us, Will, and the FBI gone. Then he'll be happy and ignore us for sometimes unless he simply becomes to bored for to long. Certainly, Moriarty interests him more than me or you but if he found out the entire truth I doubt that would remain the same."

Abigail nodded in understanding. "Should I not go over to Scotland Yard anymore?"

"I would highly advise it."

"Alright," she said with a nod. Then, biting her lip, she asked, "Do you have any idea of what is happening to Will?"

"I can think of several but I would rather not speak of them."

"Alright. Just promise me we'll get him back alive."

"Abigail," Hannibal said, "there are very few times that I keep a promise . . . but this is one of them."


	13. Chapter 13

There wasn't a concept of time anymore for Will Graham. Time was used for tracking, marking day after day of one's life until death. Will no longer cared about death. He wasn't afraid of it, and he wasn't not afraid of death. He just didn't care anymore.

He'd killed nearly eleven, maybe twelve people by now. Will wasn't counting anymore.

There were clouds overhead, covering the moon if it was even out tonight. This time, Will didn't have a campfire to keep him warm and moved about the trees, knife out and senses flared. Suddenly, he saw a light ahead. It wasn't staying still and flickering but moving back and forth in a straight beam.

It wasn't a fire. It was a flashlight. So far Will hadn't encountered anyone with a flashlight. Interesting.

Will moved forward, careful, slow, each step maneuvering through the leaves and branches. He remembered when he'd first been dropped here he'd probably sounded like a moose. Now he was much more like a tiger or a wolf, knowing how to blend in with the forest.

As he moved closer though, Will was confused when the flashlight went out. Unless if the person had amazing hearing or smell he doubted that he would've been heard. Now on guard, Will backed up several steps, looking around, trying to figure out where the person had disappeared to.

Suddenly, arms wrapped around him, locking his down as he tried to struggle free. He twisted the knife around in his hand and sunk it into what was probably the upper part of the thigh. Whoever was holding him grunted but didn't let go. Will took the knife out again, ready to try and stab this person once more when the stranger finally spoke.

"Let go of the knife."

Will froze, his breath coming in quick and fast. His legs began to crumple underneath him, only staying upright because of the arms around him.

"Let go of the knife Will."

This time he complied to the man's words and the knife fell to the ground, its noise muffled by the leaves. Will couldn't believe he was there. The man shouldn't have been there. Will was alone, he was trapped here. So why did _he_ suddenly have to appear?

"William, I'm going to let go now. Don't attack and try to stand on your own."

Will felt the man's arms let go of him but he couldn't stand on his own. He was just barely caught by the man as he fell forward.

"Will, can you stand?" asked the man. "Please respond. Say something."

Will opened his mouth, the simple question falling from his lips. "Hannibal?"

"I'm here Will. Can you stand?" Hannibal asked, repeating the question.

Will tried to say something but no more words would come so finally he just nodded his head no.

Then, without warning, Hannibal scooped Will up into his arms holding him close as he began to walk back to wherever he had come from. Will clutched onto Hannibal, his fingers entangled in his jacket. He was shaking so badly he was surprised Hannibal didn't drop him.

As Hannibal walked, Will noticed his limp and suddenly he felt like throwing up. He had been planning to stab Hannibal. If he hadn't said anything, if Will had gotten free, he would've stabbed him. He would've killed him.

Will could feel himself going farther and farther into himself. His senses began slipping away. A cloak was starting to surround him as everything began to blur. He was still faintly aware of what was going on around him but he wasn't responding to any of it. He'd retreated into his head, away from everything. It was safe in here, quite. He could hear Hannibal saying something to him, as if from far away, like down a tunnel, but Will wouldn't respond. He couldn't.

Hannibal noticed when Will became still, when he stopped shaking and his breath was less ragged. "William," he said. "Will."

Will wouldn't respond though. Hannibal stopped to examine him and saw that his eyes were still opened and his chest still moved up and down. But he was in shock. He couldn't respond to anything outside of his head.

Hannibal shifted slightly, adjusting his hold on Will. He could feel blood running down his leg, stitches would definitely be needed. Ignoring the pain was easy but if Will had nicked the major vein then Hannibal would have to hurry up.

He'd gone farther than most of the police officers so it would also take longer to get back to anyone.

As he carried him, Hannibal could feel Will's ribs through his shirt. Six days he had been missing and it appeared Will hadn't eaten anything during that time. He probably hadn't been able to get much water either.

It was becoming harder and harder to walk but before he really had to worry the many flashlights of FBI and Scotland Yard agents began to show. The first man he came across was so shocked that Hannibal finally had to interrupt and simply ask where Lestrade and Jack were.

The officer pointed him in the right direction and Hannibal quickly went. The side road that had been probably used to drop Will off had also been used by the police to get there. A letter had arrived for Sherlock that morning with detailed instructions on how to find this specific forest.

There wasn't an ambulance and Hannibal cursed the police for not thinking of bringing one.

"My god," Lestrade said, his eyes going wide upon the sight that met him. "Dr. Lecter—"

"We need to get him to a hospital and myself as well," Hannibal interrupted. "Would you mind driving detective?"

"Of course not! I'll tell everyone to pack up and—"

"No, leave them here. There are probably several bodies that you'll come across," Hannibal replied. He opened the back of Lestrade's car and placed Will down.

Lestrade quickly got in as well, getting on the phone as he drove out of there. "Jack? Yeah that was me just leaving. I'm taking Dr. Lecter and Mr. Graham to the hospital. What? No, stay there, keep them searching. Dr. Lecter said that you'd probably find several bodies. Yes, I'm sure. No, they're not. Alright, I'll tell you what happens at the hospital."

Hannibal listened to the one way conversation as he applied pressure to the wound. The cut was large but it was beginning to scab up. Glancing over at Will, he saw that he was shivering so he took off his jacket and put it around his shoulders.

Most of the ride was silent, the car racing through the night until Lestrade finally asked, "Did he stab you?"

"Yes," Hannibal replied, sounding distant as if his mind was on other things.

"Is Mr. Graham hurt?" Lestrade asked. He'd already seen how unresponsive Will was and didn't waste his time trying to get any words out of it.

"He's malnourished. I'm sure he has some type of bruise or cut somewhere but there isn't anything broken," Hannibal said.

Lestrade glanced back at them through the rearview mirror, worry clear in his face. There was clearly something on his mind but he appeared unwilling to say anything.

Not looking at him, Hannibal said, "If you have something to say or ask detective go ahead."

Lestrade jumped slightly but nodded and finally asked, "What about his mental state?"

Hannibal finally looked up, staring Lestrade right in the face. Lestrade, was unnerved by this but at the same time it was like he couldn't turn away. Until Hannibal said, "I'd keep my eyes on the rode Lestrade. You're in the wrong lane."

Eyes rushing to the road, Lestrade pulled the car to the right side, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The car lapsed back into silence and Lestrade was nearly positive that Hannibal wouldn't say anything else but he was eventually proven wrong.

"I have no idea."

"No idea of what?" asked Lestrade, already having forgotten.

"Of Will's mental state. Until he finds the courage to pull out of himself, we won't have an answer," replied Hannibal.

Lestrade nodded in understanding. This entire incident was strange and unnerving. Every time he looked at Will he couldn't help but notice all the dry blood on his cloths. How many people had he killed? Was it in self-defense or cold blood? Lestrade didn't know and not knowing made him uneasy.

When they reached a hospital in a city near the forest, Lestrade went around to help Hannibal get him out of the car. However, Will flinched away from the detective's hands. It was the first response he had made the entire ride. Hannibal bent down, picking Will up once more.

"Do you need—"

"Simply get the doors for us," Hannibal said, interrupting Lestrade.

Lestrade nodded and hurriedly walked ahead Hannibal and Will. Tired and feeling very much detached from the world, Will fell asleep, his mind filled with blood and the glint of a knife.


	14. Chapter 14

** AN: Thank you for the reviews. I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

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Will lay in the hospital bed, the IV in his hand. The doctors were trying to get him to eat but so far had had little success. If they pulled open his mouth and tilted his head back, they could get him to drink some water but he would not chew or swallow his food.

Will was vaguely aware of the movement around him. When Jack came, he didn't say anything or turn his head to the agent but he did slightly flinch away from his hand. However, that was only the first time. The second time Jack lay a comforting hand on his shoulder Will didn't move away. He was getting better though it was only Hannibal he truly felt comfortable around.

The first day Abigail came she'd brought his glasses with her. Pushing them up his nose, she said, "There, now you look more like yourself."

He'd wanted to respond, wanted to talk to her, but Will was to afraid. It was safe, locked up here in his mind. This blackness was easier than facing the world.

The kills he had made in the forest and the ones that he had imagined in his head blurred together to create one giant bloody image. He didn't mind it. Will was no longer afraid of these dreams and thoughts. He'd come to terms with them but the idea of facing the world, of acting _normal_ now was to much for him to handle.

Hannibal would hate him. He was sure of it. Despite Jim's words, about Hannibal being a monster, Will didn't believe it. It just seemed to impossible. Will knew that Hannibal would despise him along with Abigail as well. Will couldn't disappoint Abigail.

So Will stayed, day after day, locked away in fantasies, away from the world. He could tell when people spoke around him but he never could make out what they said. Only one day did he nearly get pulled out of the dark.

Hannibal, as he had done for quite some time, sat next Will, never moving unless absolutely necessary. Abigail wasn't with him to day. Why, Will didn't know. He just knew that she did leave them plenty of time alone.

With only himself and Hannibal there, Will then heard the footsteps that entered the room. Without warning Hannibal was on his feet. At first Will, didn't know who Hannibal was talking to until the man moved in front of his vision. It was Moriarty.

"You really think you can come here and expect to leave it alive?" growled out Hannibal as he walked up to Moriarty.

"Oh, I know I'll walk out of here alive," replied Jim with a smirk. "You can't afford to kill me here, no matter how tempting it may be. Besides, I brought flowers."

Hannibal snatched the bouquet away from Jim's hand and dumped them in the trash.

"Well that was rude."

"What do you want Moriarty? Why come here again? You've already done your damage."

Moriarty looked up at Hannibal and grinned. "Damage? That was the most fun I've ever had! Believe me, he'll eventually come back to you. Try some of your cooking on him though I'm sure you've cooked for him before."

Then Moriarty leaned in close to Will and said, "I saw that despite nearly being starved you still wouldn't eat human flesh. How would you feel if I told you that you've already tried it?"

Will moved, flinching away from Moriarty, his muscles stiff as he tried to pull even farther away, mentally and physically. However, it was like Moriarty was a magnet and he was slowly pulling Will out. He didn't want to leave the safety of his mind though.

Before he could really worry though, Hannibal had grabbed Moriarty by the arm and had forcibly pulled him away. Hannibal kept his hands tightly knotted in Jim's suit.

"Oo, that must be a bit uncomfortable for you," Moriarty said with a grin. "Your leg still a bit stiff from where he stabbed you? Are those stitches straining at all?"

Hannibal ignored these questions, saying, "Leave and the next time I see you it'll be at the bottom of a pot."

"I was hoping to be cremated actually," Moriarty replied with a grin and a laugh. Nevertheless, once Hannibal let go, he began to back up out of the hospital room. "I'll see you later then. It was lovely to meet you and your pet."

Hannibal waited until he'd left and then moved back to his position beside Will. He stopped to see that he was shaking. "Will, you're alright now."

Will gave a small nod, still shaking. He thought about what Moriarty had said, about Hannibal. The psychiatrist hadn't denied it. But there had been more important manners at hand, Will tried to convince himself. The idea that Hannibal would not only accept him for his monstrosity but also be like him was just to big a chance to take.

More time passed and to Will it could've been days or months. Slowly, his mind began to go towards coming back out. If he wanted to, he could come up with anyone in his head and he wouldn't be alone. In his head, Hannibal, Abigail, Jack, Alana, his dogs, even John was there and occasionally Lestrade. He tried not to think to much about Sherlock. He still didn't care for him.

However, as he sat there, he realized that even though he had company, the others did not. In Will's mind, he was happy and had company but he couldn't return the favor to anyone. Not really.

Will would never be home again, get to hug Winston or any of his other animals. He wouldn't be able to work another case and for the first time in his life that saddened him. Will wouldn't be able to hug Abigail again or talk to Hannibal.

He would rot. If he went on like this, Will would continue to just rot away in this bed. His mind would go on, living, staying happy, but no one around him would. Really, he was just being a coward, allowing himself to stay trapped inside. Such a coward, it sickened him.

It was eleven thirty at night when Will slowly blinked.

His eyes were slightly dry so he blinked again, a little faster this time. Will allowed his breathing to increase ever so slightly, back to a normal pace. His body relaxed as he swallowed, flexing his hands. Will was stiff and the IV in his hand was uncomfortable.

For the first time in a long time, he took in his surroundings. No one was there in the room.

Will moved over to the side of the bed, letting his legs dangle over the edge. He was glad he was alone. If anyone had been there, even Hannibal, he probably would've tried to close up again.

It had been so long since he'd moved that when Will's feet first touched the ground he stumbled but he quickly righted himself up. He didn't quite know why he had gotten up. Will didn't need to go to the restroom but neither did he have anywhere to actually go.

He looked to where the call button for the nurses was but decided on not pressing it. He didn't have a reason to.

Will walked around the room, stretching his limps. He couldn't move far do to the IV drip so he mostly went in circles. He had promised himself that he wouldn't trap himself back in his mind but now that he was out he was afraid once more.

He didn't want to get caught. That was the first thing on his list. The second thing was what to do about Hannibal. Will wasn't sure if he should confront him or wait until the psychiatrist went to him. He wanted to know the truth, to know if what Moriarty said was right. Thinking of the right moment was the hard part though.

Finally, after moving around enough, Will got back into the bed. It was a while before he fell asleep but he did not show the nurse that he was awake when she came by on her nightly rounds. When Will did dream, it was of blood and glinting knives.

Sweating, heavy breathing, shifting around, none of that happened though. He was no longer afraid of his dreams. Now Will was afraid to face the world.

When he awoke, Will didn't move. He opened his eyes but he didn't look around or get up. Neither did he alert the nurse that he was aware when she came in. Will was curious how long it would be until someone finally noticed or if he'd have to reveal himself.

When Hannibal came, at seven in the morning, Will honestly wasn't to surprised that the first words out of his lips were, "I see you're awake."

"How did you know?" asked Will with a sigh, his head now following the psychiatrists progress to the chair beside him.

Hannibal sat down, folding his hands and replied, "You were breathing more normally. You weren't as still as you were before either though I doubt anyone else noticed."

"You're right on that. No one else did notice," agreed Will. He looked over at Hannibal and asked, "Are you here as my psychiatrist or my friend?"

"I didn't know we were friends," Hannibal said.

Will frowned slightly and replied, "You've called yourself my friend for quite some time now."

"Yes, but never the other way around. Am I your friend now?"

"It depends on the next few minutes."

"And what will happen in the next few minutes that would decide this?" asked Hannibal, cocking his head ever so slightly to the side.

"I need you to answer some of my questions."

"Alright."

Will took a shaky deep breath, slightly turning towards Hannibal but not really looking at him. It was the first time in a long time that he hadn't made eye contact with the psychiatrist. "First, how many did I kill?"

"We found seventeen bodies."

"More than I had thought," murmured Will and it was hard to keep the giddiness out of his voice. He was just barely able to pass it off as shock. "How does that make you feel? That one of your . . . one of your friends has killed so many?"

Hannibal was silent for some time, looking at Will with narrowed, analyzing eyes. "How would you feel if a friend of yours had killed that many?"

"That's not answering my question. I never asked you to say your own."

Hannibal nodded and said, "Fair enough. But maybe a question of my own will answer yours for you."

Will bit his bottom lip and finally looked Hannibal in the eyes. He was uncertain about this but he finally agreed to it. "Fine. Ask what you want to."

"Have you seen blood in the moonlight Will? It looks quite black."

Confused by the question and put off Will still nodded and replied, "I hadn't really noticed but I suppose it does. Look black that is."

"Would you like to see some more?"

In that moment every puzzle piece fit into place. Hannibal was the Chesapeake Ripper. There had never been a copy cat, never a double, or multiple people helping. Just Hannibal. Each question, each puzzle, each problem, came together for Will in that moment. It all made sense and Will suddenly realized that his answer would decide everything.

He could lie, act like he didn't know what Hannibal was talking about. Will could try to get away, go back to lying to himself and live a normal life. He could try to forget this entire incident and his darker side. Will could try to stop Hannibal or confront him on this but that would probably just get him killed. If he agreed to this, went along with Hannibal, there would be no going back. If he was caught, there would be no getting out of this.

This final answer would be the most important thing in his life. When Will finally said it, his voice was soft, whispered as if he was confessing a grievous secret. Hannibal heard him even so.

"Yes."


	15. Chapter 15

That morning, Hannibal told Will much of what the younger had not figured out already. He didn't tell him everything and Will knew this but he was content with waiting. He knew Hannibal would tell him in do time.

Nevertheless, despite everything, Will became extremely worried after Hannibal made a remark.

"I suspect Jack will want you back as soon as possible," said Hannibal.

"What do you mean? Wh-what about the things I've done? I still find it hard to believe that they won't stick me into a mental institution," Will replied.

"Jack needs you to much. Most likely you'll be sent to a psychiatrist and over several months go through therapy. Afterwards, you'll probably continue to go to that psychiatrist for a time being and then be fine. Remember, everyone else thinks you were forced into this, that it was _all_ self-defense," Hannibal reminded him.

Will gulped and said, "It sounds almost like the psychiatrist wouldn't be you."

"I don't believe so, no. I'm going to suggest to Jack that you should go to a different one."

Will's eyes widened with panic. "What?! No, you can't do that. They'll find out and-and—"

"William, please calm down and take several deep breaths," Hannibal said calmly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I will teach you every trick. I'll show you how to hide emotions and how to pass one thing off as another. You'll be fine."

"But why can't you stay my psychiatrist?" asked Will with a pained expression.

"It is obvious to Jack and many others how friendly we've become. It could draw attention to us, some might not believe I'm doing my job correctly because I want to protect you or some other reason," he answered.

Taking a shaky breath, Will nodded in understanding. What Hannibal said did make sense, he just didn't like it. Several minutes later, Abigail came in. Jack would be arriving that afternoon, saying that he'd allow Will sometime to calm down before he was interrogated by anyone.

When Abigail got there, Will couldn't help but look away. He wasn't afraid of her now or disappointed in her. Really, he was more disappointed in himself for not seeing the darkness inside her sooner. Will also was a bit sad Abigail had gotten pulled into all of this. Just because he had come to terms with his darker side didn't mean he wished it on anyone else.

"Hey Will," she said, walking over and sitting down by Hannibal.

"Hello," he greeted softly, glancing up at her and then looking over to Hannibal because he was easier to look at.

Mistaking his unease for anger and sadness, Abigail asked, "Have I let you down in some way?"

"What? No, not at all. I'm just ashamed that I didn't catch it sooner. I feel like I should have," admitted Will.

Abigail smiled now and replied, "Well I did learn from Hannibal. Are you alright though? I'm guessing Hannibal told you everything."

"Mostly, yes," murmured Will. He asked Hannibal, "When do you think I'll be able to leave?"

"Not to long from now. Scotland Yard will of course want answers seeing as it was done in their country but after that we can quickly go home."

"What if Sherlock Holmes comes though? What then?" asked Will.

"Mr. Holmes can prove that you killed those people, that I know for sure. However, he is not one for emotion and it is doubtful he would be able to figure out why you killed them except for defense. Unless you acted in such an obvious way that you enjoyed killing them but that's the only way."

Will nodded in understanding. "What about Moriarty though? What if he comes back?"

"He will not be a problem for some time Will. I assure you," Hannibal replied.

He nodded but was clearly not reassured. Will finally looked over at Abigail. Nothing in her had changed, she still looked like the person he had known before all of this and even had the same air about her. And yet, this girl had killed so many alongside Hannibal.

"What . . . what do you do with the bodies after you're done? What do you do with the organs?" asked Will softly. It was one of the things that Hannibal had neglected to tell him.

Abigail looked at Hannibal with a raised eyebrow, obviously curious as to why he hadn't told him. However, Hannibal simply smiled and replied, "You shall know eventually but not now dear Will."

Will sighed but decided not to push it.

That afternoon put a lot of strain on Will and everyone could see it. Nevertheless, everyone else thought it was to do with the guilt of what he'd done. Only Hannibal and Abigail knew that it was from worry that everyone would figure out secret.

One good thing though was that Will was still very much himself. Having trouble looking people in the eyes and being nervous and unsure stayed with Will. Hannibal hoped to help with that one day but for now he'd leave those problems be as they helped with Will's cover.

Hannibal did give Jack his suggestion of sending Will to another psychiatrist and he eventually agreed. Hannibal and Abigail left the room when Jack, and later Lestrade, questioned Will. Hannibal saw the quick glance of panic that Will had sent him but he'd ignored it. He knew Will would be fine.

After Lestrade and Jack had gone in Sherlock and John went into the hospital room. John was extremely thankful Will was alive and constantly asked him if he needed anything. Sherlock had simply asked Will a few questions and left it at that, seeming satisfied with his answers.

It was another week before Will could leave the hospital. When he finally could, it was like a breath of fresh air. Being cooped up in that one room had made him extremely antsy and he wanted to get back to his dogs and home as soon as possible.

Leaving Sherlock and Moriarty behind also brought Will some pleasure.

Before they left, Will had already gotten information on what he would do once they were home again. For another two weeks he wouldn't work at all, going to his new psychiatrist each day. After those two weeks, if the psychiatrist thought it all right, Will would go back to teaching at the FBI. Between one to three months was the time he had to wait before becoming a consultant for the FBI again.

At first, when back Will spent most of the time at home, finding that his dogs, like always, calmed him and allowed him to think. He spoke with Alana a bit but otherwise kept away from the world. After a few days Will finally began to move around again.

Of course, the first thing he'd do was to be with Hannibal and/or Abigail. Hannibal helped him with ways of getting around a psychiatrist and how to lie as well. Usually, that's how each discussion started out but at some point they would usually go off talking about something else.

Once Will was able to go back to teaching, that helped with a bit more of normalcy. Because of this, he saw Alana more often and though this made Will happy, he felt extremely distant from her now. She was supportive of Will and backed him up in many things but it was all a lie.

Will could feel their relationship slowly disappearing. They had almost been friends but now they were back to acquaintances once more, at least Will's mind. Alana probably still thought of them as friends and thought Will need some more time. In reality, Will just didn't want to have a friend he had to lie to and he knew he could never tell Alana the truth.

Will was a bit shocked that Freddie Lounds hadn't published anything against him but he didn't remember how Jack had threatened her. Nevertheless, he really knew this wouldn't stop her. She was probably just waiting for some things to die down.

About two weeks after getting back into teaching, after a class Will was once again with Hannibal.

"Where's Abigail today?" he asked as he came in. Now that she didn't have to stay at that hospital anymore, Hannibal had helped her to get her own apartment. It was close to Hannibal's house but still allowed her privacy.

"She's actually at an interview for a job right now," replied Hannibal.

"Not one for a college?"

"She still thinks she should wait until she applies for any," Hannibal answered. He didn't sit down when Will did which was a bit odd.

Catching this, Will asked, "Did I catch you at a bad time? Is there somewhere you need to be?"

"Not particularly but I thought we might do something tonight."

"Like what?"

"Like perform your first real kill."

Will was slightly shocked by this and stumbled over his words before he finally said, "Technically I've already had my first kill. I've made a lot of kills."

"Yes but they have no elegance to them," replied Hannibal with a small smile.

Will bit his bottom lip, looking down for a moment and then looked back up at Hannibal. "After tonight, will you tell what you do with the organs then?"

"Better yet, I'll show you."


	16. Chapter 16

**AN: Thank you so much for all the reviews! Not so sure about this chapter so please tell me what you think.**

* * *

Will was giddy and excited, frightened and unsure, curious and interested. He sat beside Hannibal in his car as they drove to wherever Hannibal was taking him. He hadn't explained where they were going and Will didn't ask.

It had been a while since he'd killed, over a month by now and yet the feeling he had remembered during each kill was still coursing through his veins.

Nevertheless, there was one thing that Will had to ask. "Who is it? Do I know them?"

"I highly doubt it. His name is Ben Arrington and he is certainly not the politest man you'll ever meet."

Will couldn't help but slightly laugh at the distaste in Hannibal's voice. "When did you first start killing?"

Hannibal took a deep breath and it was clear that part of his mind wasn't there now. He was thinking, reliving whatever was going through his mind. Will began to wonder if he'd ever get an answer when Hannibal said, "I was thirteen. He was a butcher. One of the rudest men I've ever met."

"Was he rude to you?"

"My aunt."

Will raised his eyebrows. "I learned you had a little sister and now I know you had an aunt."

"Have. I have an aunt, if she is still alive. The last time I saw her I was eighteen."

"What happened to her? What is her name?" asked Will.

A small smile came upon Hannibal's lips as he said, "Her name is Lady Murasaki. As far as what happened, that is a story for another day."

"The same with what happened with your sister?"

"Yes, I will tell you that story another time as well. For now, it's time for your kill," Hannibal replied as they pulled up in front of a house.

"What's our plan?"

"Our plan? No, this is all you," Hannibal said with another smile. "He keeps his back door unlocked. He has one child and a wife. The wife is with her mother."

"And the child?"

"He's currently asleep."

"You want me to go in there, kill his father, I'm guessing bringing him out to you, and _not_ awake the boy?" asked Will a bit incredulously.

"That's the plan. Do not worry, I'll be here the entire time. Go on."

"What? No weapon?"

"I'm sure you'll find one inside."

"And what if I make a mess?"

"I'll clean it up," replied Hannibal.

Will sighed but finally got out of the car. He didn't look back as he made it to the house. The drive had taken some time so it was past midnight now. He didn't even have to jump the fence; it was unlocked. When he got into the house, the door led into the kitchen.

There were of course the knives that he could pick but that was to simple. Will wanted this to be more interesting. There weren't any lights on so Will went upstairs. He remembered how quite he had to be in the forest. Moving in this house was much easier.

Will found the man's room. He was sound asleep. He walked up to him and looked down at him. For a few moments, he thought of the child in the room three doors down, he thought of the wife that was away. But the moment passed and Will hit the man in the throat.

His eyes flashed open as he tried to get air in. Will had crushed the vocals so he couldn't scream or call for help. He could only try to gasp for air. Will picked him up, he was small and not to heavy. The man struggled but Will's grip was to tight on him and any attempt to make noise was stopped.

Not waking the child, Will took the man downstairs. They had a fireplace and after he threw the man onto the ground he grabbed one of the pokers. With a sigh, he shoved it through the man's neck. Will didn't hit the spine and the man was still alive, still struggling. Will watched him squirm for a bit before he began to move again.

Will gave him a pat on the head and then grabbed the little shovel and crushed his head. At that moment, Hannibal came in nodding his head at Will as a job well done.

"Take the body to the car," he said softly and then moved upstairs. Will wasn't sure what he was doing but most likely it was cleaning things up.

Will put the body in the trunk and when Hannibal got into the car, Will asked, "So what do you do with them?"

"Eat them."

Will had figured this but it was still different hearing it out loud. He took in a shaky breath and asked, "So everything you made me, when you'd come to my house with breakfast or lunch or dinner, it was all human?"

"Well not all of it. It's a little hard to make carrots out of humans."

"Hannibal that's not very funny," Will replied but it was hard to keep a straight face.

"You did well by the way. Didn't get a speck of blood on you. My first few kills were very . . . messy."

"You? Messy? That's hard to imagine," he sighed. "Will you ever tell me the full story?"

"In time dear William, in time."

"Fine, it's just . . . you know so much about me and yet I really don't know that much about you," admitted Will.

"And one day, you will know everything but today is not that day," Hannibal replied. "Something I _will_ tell you today, well tonight however, is how to make an excellent meal."

Will smiled at this, letting out a tired, maniacal laugh.

Hannibal raised an eyebrow. "Something funny?"

"You had Jack over for dinner," Will said, beginning to laugh again. The thrill of the kill was making him a bit giddy. In between breathy laughs Will continued. "He had dinner with the Chesapeake Ripper haha! Jack had dinner. Maybe we should invite him over again. Jack! We're having a heart for dinner. What's that? It's still beating? Oops! Haha!"

Hannibal was not put off by Will's ramblings. In fact, he had expected something like this to happen eventually. This was why he hadn't liked Moriarty's plan. Pushing Will into this kind of world so quickly was going to send his brain a bit off its usual path. As long as Will kept himself in check while around others, Hannibal would allow him to ramble on about whatever he wanted to.

"Oh Jack _and_ Alana let's have them both for dinner! Haha!"

"Will," Hannibal murmured, his eyes glancing over at him. "Calm down please."

"Sorry," Will quickly replied, his cheeks going red as his mind sort of caught up with what he'd just done. "Didn't mean to start going off like that."

"It's perfectly alright Will."

"Wait-no. No it's not alright! I didn't even realize what I was saying! God, I shouldn't have said any of that."

"You'll be fine Will. You've had this entire world thrust upon you without warning. It'll take some time before you are use to it," Hannibal answered simply.

Will sighed but didn't say anything else. The rest of the night, Will learned how to cut up a body and what organs go best with what kind of food.

The next month passed very much like this. Will made a kill with Abigail but so far he hadn't made another kill just on his own. He actually wasn't looking to forward to that just because he was afraid he might mess up. A part of him knew that he wouldn't and another part of him doubted himself. This left Will in constant conflict but he was getting very good at hiding it. No one suspected.

Everything seemed to be fine until the day that Will came barreling into Hannibal's home. The psychiatrist was not put off by this and simply raised an eyebrow, curious to what was going on.

"Everything alright Will?"

"Sherlock and John are here," Will said quickly, pacing back and forth.

"For a case I suspect."

"Yes for a case!"

"Not one involving us I suspect," Hannibal said, still completely calm.

"Well no, but I don't know what to do! I mean-I just-I—"

"Will," interrupted Hannibal, placing both hands on Will's shoulders and looking him in the eyes, "it will be alright. Nothing will change. Everything is just fine."

"But what do I do?" asked Will desperately.

"You do the polite thing of course," Hannibal replied. "You invite them over for dinner.


	17. Chapter 17

Sherlock and John got out of the cab and looked up at the home in front of them. As Sherlock's eyes ran over the entire structure, John's mouth dropped open, unable to close it as he murmured, "Wow."

When they went in, John was just as amazed about the interior of Hannibal's house as he'd been about the outside. Hannibal seemed to find it slightly amusing and took their coats, directing them to the dining room.

"Abigail, what a pleasant surprise," said John. "It's nice to see you again Will."

"Same," Will said with a small nod and a wary smile.

Abigail was more open and held out her hand, shaking John's but ignoring Sherlock seeing as he didn't offer one. "It is nice to see you again Dr. Watson."

"Please call me John."

Hannibal gestured to their seats and said, "I will be right back with the first course."

"Course?" questioned John, a bit surprised.

"Hannibal likes to cook," Will said weakly.

Sherlock looked over at Will and then asked, "So, how are the nightmares?"

"Sherlock! You don't just ask someone how their nightmares are like you're asking them how their tea is! I swear," muttered John with a sigh as he rubbed his eyes. "They invited us over. Couldn't you be at least a little bit polite?"

"I was asking only a simple question," Sherlock pouted. "No need to get angry John."

John rolled his eyes and then turned to Will. "I apologize for Sherlock's behavior."

"It's alright," replied Will, finally giving a soft smile towards the doctor. "I knew what I was getting myself into by inviting you both over."

At that moment, Hannibal came back into the room with several plates on his arms. "First, I have a small appetizer is a type of canapé, amuse-bouche. Would you like a glass of wine Dr. Watson?"

"Oh! Uh, yes please," John said, not entirely expecting all of this.

The entire dinner was light on the outside. Will eased up slightly but only a little bit. Sherlock was annoying of course but he toned it down a bit if only so that John wouldn't keep yelling at him. After Hannibal set desert in front of everyone, Sherlock suddenly said, "Would you mind if I talked to you Dr. Lecter?"

"About what?"

"I'd prefer it if it were in a more private area," replied Sherlock.

Hannibal looked at him curiously. Finally he said, "Alright. Will, Abigail, I'll be right back. Dr. Watson, I do hope you enjoy your desert."

"I'm sure I will," replied John and then glanced over at Sherlock. It was obvious that the shorter was planning on bashing Sherlock's brains in if he didn't anything else rude.

"This way please," said Hannibal and then led Sherlock away.

They went to Hannibal's office, Sherlock's eyes wondering around the entire time. When Hannibal stopped and turned around, Sherlock said, "I'm surprised you haven't tried to kill me yet."

"Did you expect me to?" asked Hannibal innocently.

"No, but I doubt the person we just ate expected you to kill them either," Sherlock replied.

Hannibal smiled at his comment, deadly, predatory. "Well if we're going to do this then I might as well say that I'm surprised you haven't dragged Dr. Watson out of here and called the police."

"No you're not. Besides, I know you wouldn't kill John."

"And why is that?"

"He doesn't pose a threat and Will likes him. You and Abigail would get over his death but Will might have a harder time doing so and I'm sure it would be even harder if you killed him," Sherlock said.

"You still could've called the police. That must mean there's something you want from me."

"Yes, I need your help, as much as I hate to say it."

"But you won't call the police on me." It wasn't a question.

Giving a disgusted look, Sherlock said, "Not for some time, no. Maybe one day I will but for now I won't. It would only make things more complicated."

"Alright. Then what do you want me to help you with?" asked Hannibal curiously.

"In about two more weeks, you'll need to be in London. I'll send you a text that simply says 'now' and then you will need to wait exactly ten minutes. After that, come to St. Bart's hospital, I'm sure you remember it. There should be a large crowd gathering at the front of the building. I'll need you to go to the roof and take care of a body for me."

"Very specific instructions. You've been planning this for some time," commented Hannibal.

"I have. It would also help if you could find a good reason to go back to London. You're accent clearly shows you're from Europe, though it's hard to say exactly where from as it has several different mixes in it."

"Well I do speak several different languages."

"That's beside the point. My point is that I'm sure you have some friend or at the very least an acquaintance that you can say you're meeting."

"This seems like a lot of work. Why would I help you anyway? The fact that I'm wasting perfectly good food on you disgusts me as it is," Hannibal replied.

"One, I won't call the police and two, I think you'd enjoy getting rid of this body."

Hannibal looked at Sherlock and his entire stance and the way he stared back told Hannibal who he was talking about. Interesting. "Moriarty you mean."

"Yes. I thought you'd have fun with that and besides, you have a very unique way of getting rid of evidence."

Sherlock and Hannibal glared at each other; both calculating the other's response and already thinking up some come back. "If I say no?"

"You won't say no," Sherlock replied back.

Hannibal laughed, his smile still full of malace. "You're right. I'll do it. I suspect you don't want Will or Abigail to know of this?"

"Yes, and John doesn't know what is going on either," said Sherlock.

"You know, I don't fully know what is going on either," Hannibal replied.

"You're smart enough. Figure it out."

"I think I already have. Really, it's quite clever. Are you sure John can withstand the emotional turmoil?"

"I won't be gone forever. I will come back."

"To assure that I'm behind bars," Hannibal said.

"I would prefer you be under the needle or in the noose but I know that people are to stupid to do that. They'd lock you up and try to study you but of course that wouldn't get them anywhere. You're not something that can simply be studied," shot back Sherlock.

"Neither can you. You may be a sociopath but you're far to rude and narcissistic to allow anyone to really pick you apart. You'd rather pick them apart first."

Sherlock actually smiled at that and then glanced towards the door and back at Hannibal. "Ready to rejoin the others?"

"Yes, I believe we are."

When they came back, the others had already finished their food and John said, "That was excellent Dr. Lecter. I hope whatever you were talking about Sherlock wasn't to rude."

"We were perfectly fine Dr. Watson. Simply discussing matters of a case."

"A case?" asked Will. "I could've—"

"It's fine. I've already taken care of it," replied Hannibal with a smile.

They spent the next thirty minutes talking when John finally said they probably needed to get back to the hotel room. Hannibal walked both of them to the door and as Sherlock wrapped his scarf around his throat, Hannibal said, "I'm sure we'll meet again Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson."

"Good bye Dr. Lecter," replied John.

Sherlock simply gave a curt nod as Hannibal closed the door.

Hannibal walked back into the dining room to see Abigail rolling her eyes at Will while he held his glass of wine to his head.

"Really Will, it wasn't that bad," said Abigail.

"I feel like throwing up," he muttered in response. "God I was terrified."

Hannibal walked up behind him and placed both hands on Will's shoulders, making him jump slightly. "Will, it is alright. You were fine, and everything will be fine. Now, I'd hate it if you threw up that entire dinner I just made. You know how annoying the main course was this time around."

Will eased up under Hannibal's touch and chuckled slightly, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Abigail smiled at the scene in front of her and then got up.

"I better be going now. I have work tomorrow," she said. She walked around the table and hugged both Hannibal and Will, giving Will a quick, reassuring kiss on the cheek. "I'll talk to you later."

"Good night Abigail," said Hannibal.

"Night Abigail," added Will.

They watched her leave and then Will got up stretching his limbs. "I need to get back home to. I'm going to have to put aside more money for gas if I keep driving here so often," joked Will.

"You could always stay."

If Will had still had the wine glass in his hands he probably would've dropped it. "Uh-um-what?" he stuttered out rather unceremonially.

"You could stay the night. I have a spare room," Hannibal continued, his voice utterly calm though he knew how off kilter he'd just made Will.

"Oh, right . . . of course a spare room. That makes sense. I just-I thought—"

"What did you think Will?" Hannibal was enjoying watching Will squirm.

"Well I mean-I thought you might-that is—"

Will didn't finish because Hannibal bent down and gave him a quick, chaste kiss on the lips. When he pulled away he asked, "You mean like that?"

For a moment Will was speechless and then finally he said, "I should probably go."

"I'll see you tomorrow then at your usual time."

"Uh-yes! Of course," murmured Will.

Hannibal couldn't help but smile as Will hurried off, a mixture of emotions playing on his face. Hannibal wanted to help Will but at the same time he enjoyed seeing him confused and a bit shocked. Every now and then if Hannibal committed an extremely disgusting crime, he would see a small flicker of fear in Will's eyes as well. He wanted Will to remain at least slightly afraid. For him, it meant he was more careful, more cautious, and that was good.

After cleaning up the dining room, Hannibal got out his I-pad and quickly looked up one of his acquaintances. When Sherlock had suggested that Hannibal get in touch with someone over there, his mind had immediately went to one man.

Besides his aunt Lady Murasaki, he was the only other person Hannibal had really known from his childhood over in Europe. That was still alive of course.

Inspector Pascal Popil.

Hannibal had kept a close eye on the man and knew that he was still alive. He'd kept the inspector's number and email, changing it when need be. He smiled. Hannibal already knew that the inspector would agree to see him.

* * *

**AN: Just a quick note that any bits and pieces of Hannibal's past that I mention I will try to make as accurate to the book Hannibal Rising as possible. Also, I am going towards Hannigram so if that ship offends you in any way I am sorry though there was a warning in the summary after all.**


	18. Chapter 18

The next day, Will did come at the correct time, looking as flustered as ever. Hannibal smiled at him as he watched him walk by and fall in a heap in one of Hannibal's chairs.

"And how are you Will?"

Will let out a groan, leaning backwards and clearly wishing he could disappear. "I talked to Jack today."

"And?"

"And he said he thought it was about time I came back as a consultant for the FBI."

"I hear a 'but' coming."

"But he noticed how nervous I was," Will continued. He stopped and finally looked Hannibal to see that the psychiatrist was waiting for a response, curious as he stood near him. "So I told him the truth."

"Which one?" asked Hannibal with a grin.

"You know which one!" cried out Will as he stood up and start pacing back and forth. "I mean, we kissed dammit!"

"What did Jack have to say to that?"

"He gave a shocked expression and then laughed and said good luck!" Will yelled out, putting his face in his hands. "There was nothing-we didn't-there is no us!"

The grin remained on Hannibal's face as he walked over. "If there isn't any 'us', then there is no need to get so worked up over this."

Will peeked at Hannibal from behind his fingers. Will knew he was right so why was this making him slightly on edge? However, before he could even think of saying anything else Hannibal began talking again.

"Well, you'll have plenty of time to think about it. I'm leaving to meet an old friend in London in a few days. I'll be gone for a little over a week," said Hannibal.

These sudden plans shocked Will slightly as he quickly got over his current problems and asked, "Is everything alright?"

"Everything is fine William. I am simply going to see someone I haven't in a long time."

"Who?"

"Inspector Pascal Popil. I knew him from when I was merely a boy. I was eighteen, the last time I saw him," said Hannibal.

"Eighteen? So it's been a while. Have you talked to him sense?"

"Only recently to ask him to meet me," Hannibal replied.

Will bit his bottom lip and asked, "How do you know him?"

Instead of saying anything, Hannibal simply smiled making Will groan.

"Come on, just tell me already! I want to know more about you but you're not letting me," said Will.

"How about I make you a deal then," suggested Hannibal. "Once I come back, I will tell you a story of my past, the one about my sister Mischa. In return, while I am gone, I want you to commit your first kill by yourself. No help from me and no help from Abigail."

Rubbing his hands together, Will murmured, "But what if I mess up?"

"I know you won't Will. You'll do perfectly fine," Hannibal said in a reassuring voice.

He crossed his arms and shifted back and forth on his feet. Looking back up at Hannibal, he said, "Fine, I'll do it. But you have to tell me the story! You can't go back on your word."

"I promise I won't," replied Hannibal.

"Good . . . good," Will murmured, not quite sure what else to say. Finally he blurted out several things about not thinking he was ready to go back to being a consultant.

For the next hour they talked about that, Hannibal mainly comforting Will, saying that he was ready. When he left it was to go to his other psychiatrist for one last check to see if he could go into the field. Will was extremely nervous but Hannibal was sure he'd do fine.

The day before Hannibal would leave he had Abigail come over.

"And how are you today Abigail?"

"Pretty good. I'm sure you've heard from Will that he's going back into the field?" she asked as she sat down.

"Yes, he's seems very pleased with himself. Abigail, while I'm gone, I just wanted to make sure that you watched over Will. I'm sure he'll be fine but just in case," Hannibal said.

"Of course! He'll be perfectly fine while you're gone," she said with a grin. "So this inspector you're going to meet, will I ever get to meet him?"

"I doubt it. He's a very interesting character though. I'll tell you about him some time."

Abigail made a pouting face and then brightened up asking, "So what has he said about the kiss? Hmm? He won't tell anyone anything else about it."

"Doctor-patient confidentiality."

"You can really call him you patient now," she with a roll of her eyes and a laugh as she mimicked Hannibal's smile. "I'll miss you. I wish I could go with you to London again."

"Perhaps sometime we can go there and maybe other places in Europe as well. How would you like that?" asked Hannibal.

"That would be great! Us and Will, right? Just the three of us?" she suggested.

Hannibal smiled. "Of course."

The next day, with his baggage ready, Hannibal was pleased but not surprised as Will caught him right before he went past one of the security checkpoints.

"I will not be gone long," said Hannibal. "And there are cell phones and email. I will see you soon."

"I know. I just-I mean—" Will stopped himself and simply leaned forward and upward, giving Hannibal a swift kiss. "I wanted to say bye."

Will's face was bright red, and he was clearly uneasy in this crowd yet he didn't move, probably waiting for Hannibal to say something.

"Then good bye Will. I'll see you soon," Hannibal finally replied after allowing Will to squirm slightly. He bent down to kiss him and then turned, leaving.

"Bye," murmured Will even though Hannibal couldn't have heard him among the noise of the airport.

The flight wasn't to bad, thankfully he was seated next to anyone to unpleasant, and before long Hannibal was in London once more. It was in the afternoon when he got there so Hannibal went and grabbed some lunch. Until the day came he'd have to help Sherlock, Hannibal would simply visit the city and the area around it. The day of the event he was to meet Popil. It had been a long time since he'd seen the inspector and he was looking forward to it.

While Hannibal did this, Will started working on his first case in a long time with Jack. After taking a break, he was a bit surprised to see Alana.

"Alana, what are you doing here?" he asked curiously, biting his bottom lip.

"Just came to say hi and see how you're doing," she replied walking over to him and sitting next to him. Alana had a coffee in hand and she sipped it thoughtfully as she said, "You've been doing really well despite everything Will. In fact, I think your improving a bit."

"Improving?" Will asked, rubbing his hands together.

"You're actually becoming a bit more sociable. Some might not be able to see it but I can. I was afraid you might be even more regressed than before," admitted Alana.

"Hannibal has been helping a lot."

Alana nodded. "I've noticed you've been calling him by his first name now. Are you two a—"

"I honestly don't know," muttered Will. He'd rather not talk about this, especially with Alana. "It's still all a bit muddled."

"Well it's natural to feel a stronger connection to him now. Jack told me he was the one that found you," Alana replied. "You've been with him and Abigail a lot. Even if I wasn't a psychiatrist, as a friend, I think right now is a good time for you since Hannibal has left for a bit. Leave Abigail alone for awhile."

"You're not my psychiatrist," Will said, taking on Alana's tone. "I'm not five either."

"I know that Will but it's unhealthy. If you're looking for a family that's not what I see. I see a pack," Alana responded honestly.

Will couldn't help but give a small smile at this comment despite Alana's worried expression. To cover it up, he made a joke out of it. "So Hannibal's the alpha and I'm his mate then?"

She sighed, leaning back in the current chair she was sitting in. "I'm being serious Will. If you . . . if you do start a relationship with Hannibal—"

Will noticed how hard it was for her to say that.

"—then I want it to be a healthy one. Though I don't like it, I'm fine that you see Abigail as well. As long as it's not to _much_."

"I thank you for your concern Alana," he replied, actually being honest here, "but I can make my own decisions."

She bit her lip but didn't say anything else regarding the subject. They discussed the case a bit and then she left. As Will watched her go, he thought of what she'd said once more.

_ I see a pack._

Though he hadn't responded this way, Will liked the way it had sounded. A pack, it was the only way to really describe them. Even though Will had joked about being the 'mate' and she is usually second, Abigail was really second in command. She'd been doing this longer and her childlike innocence and need for help was simply for show.

Still, he thought about Hannibal and he'd kissed back at the airport. Will hadn't even been utterly sure what he was going to do when he'd arrived there and then he'd just kissed him. It confused him but he was sure he'd figure either before or once Hannibal was back.

Until then, he'd nock those thoughts out of the way with a kill.


	19. Chapter 19

**AN: This is becoming longer and more complicated than I expected and I am loving it. Hope you're still enjoying the story. Tell me what you think ^^.**

* * *

It was a little café that Hannibal was sitting at in London when he raised an eyebrow. The door had just opened and though he hadn't looked up, he immediately knew it was Inspector Popil. His scent hadn't changed despite all the time that had passed.

Hannibal looked up to see the man looking around, clearly trying to figure out which person in the café was Hannibal. Popil's hair was almost completely gray and there were more lines on his face. Nevertheless, he still seemed in very good health for his age and the years had been kind on him.

"Inspector," he said, directing Popil's attention over to him. "Please, sit down."

Popil's eyes widened slightly, probably comparing the eighteen year old boy in his head to the man in front of him. As he walked over, despite the differences, Popil could soon tell that the eyes were still the same. A dark brown where a redness seemed to hide.

"Uh, it's not inspector anymore," Popil finally got out as he sat down in front of Hannibal. "I'm retired now."

"That is a problem then," said Hannibal, throwing Popil an all to familiar grin. "I don't know what to call you now."

"How about just my first name, Pascal," suggested Popil.

"Alright Pascal. Then it seems only fair that you call me Hannibal," he replied, slipping into French.

Popil quickly followed, speaking in his mother tongue become easier as he replied, "I suppose you're still a doctor then."

"Not of medicine, a psychiatrist now but a doctor nonetheless," Hannibal responded. He couldn't help but smile as he saw Popil's all to familiar unease. "You are not comfortable sitting with me Pascal."

"No, I am not," he admitted.

"Do not worry. I will not kill you."

Popil only tensed up more upon hearing his words. Still speaking in French, he said, "I'm personally surprised you didn't kill me before. I had thought that you might do so now."

"And yet you still came."

"Yes."

Hannibal leaned forward, hands clasped. "You always did amuse me Pascal. In fact, that is one of the main reasons you are still alive."

"Is this why you wanted to meet? To discuss why you kept me alive?"

"No. If you must know it is for a cover."

"What do you plan to do this time Hannibal?"

"That is my secret to keep Pascal. For now, I am curious if you have any questions."

"Me? What makes you think I have questions?"

"You've always felt connected to me but so far away at the same time. Both of us lost our entire families because of similar reasons for example. Nevertheless, you became a cop and I became what you see before you."

Popil bit his lip. He hated how it seemed that Hannibal's tongue had only become that more slippery. Still, he asked, "Well then tell me why you kept me alive. Not just because you thought I was interesting but actual details."

"You knew what I was, what I am, from the very beginning. Everyone else was to afraid to look closer. You knew I was responsible for those men's deaths, the butcher, Dortlich, all of them. You were afraid to look too, I could tell, but you still did. Pascal, you knew what I was, you have always known, but you were never able to get any evidence to actually pin it down on me. That is why I found, and still find, you interesting," replied Hannibal as he leaned back.

Sighing, his body finally easing up ever so slightly, Popil replied, "And by god I wish I could've caught you. Hannibal, I wanted to help you. I could've helped you if you'd only let me."

His smile turned softer now, still predatory, still in charge, but softer nonetheless. "My aunt felt the same. Have you spoken with my aunt at all?"

"Not since you left France and she went back to Japan."

"That's what I thought," Hannibal said. His phone suddenly buzzed in his pocket. He looked down at it and saw the text message he had been expecting. He had ten minutes left with the inspector. "So, Pascal, tell me what you did after I left France."

For the next ten minutes they chatted, both now at ease around the other. When time came, Hannibal told Popil he'd have to leave now.

"I doubt I'll ever see you again," Pascal said as he watched Hannibal stand up.

"If you like, I promise to come to your funeral," replied Hannibal with a smile.

Popil chuckled slightly and muttered, "I don't care. Didn't marry any kids and no family. I wouldn't be surprised if the preacher forgot my body on the way to the empty funeral went off to some bar."

Hannibal gave another terrifying smile. "I would never let that happen. Good bye Pascal. It was good to see you again."

He nodded. "I hope someone comes along that can do what I never could. I hope they find some type of evidence."

"Maybe they will," replied Hannibal. Finally, speaking in English once more, "I'm sure if it happens, you'll read about it in the papers. Good bye Pascal."

"Good bye Hannibal."

When Hannibal arrived at St. Bart's, just as Sherlock had said, there was a crowd just beginning to gather in the front of the building. The day before, Sherlock had explained everything, Moriarty, Richard Brooke, their deaths. Hannibal easily made it past everyone and into the building.

Nearly everyone was outside making it easy for Hannibal to get to the roof without having to answer questions. When he got there, he saw Moriarty's lifeless body, a pool of blood around his head.

Hannibal bent down beside him and murmured, "Tut tut, you've ruined your suit Moriarty."

The body was light and it wasn't hard to carry. It didn't take him long getting the blood off the roof either. Sherlock had already made an area ready where they would meet, an abandoned building on the edge of London. A cab was out back where Hannibal put the body. Sherlock had somehow gotten it for Hannibal to use so that he could use the streets that were only for cabbies, making the ride quicker.

Sherlock didn't explain how he'd acquired it and Hannibal didn't ask.

Moriarty's body was already cut up and in packages, the pieces not needed thrown away, when Sherlock arrived.

"The consulting detective returns, back from the dead," remarked Hannibal. "When do you plan on revealing yourself to the rest of the world?"

"I'll have to wait, probably three months at least. That should give Moriarty's organization plenty of time to completely fall apart."

"What about Sebastian Moran? His Tiger? His right hand man?" asked Hannibal curiously.

Sherlock shook his head and replied, "He won't be able to keep everything together. In time, he might create his own organization but he won't do it alone. It could take years before he even creates an empire that slightly resembles Moriarty's."

"Why do you think that he won't be able to keep Moriarty's empire simply as it was?" asked Hannibal.

"He's simply not intelligent enough. Why do you think he won't be able to?"

"Sebastian Moran clearly worshipped his employer. He knows that even if he tried to hold on to Moriarty's empire it would only disappoint Moriarty. Sebastian doesn't want to disappoint him so he'd rather let it die and start afresh."

"Emotions," sniffed Sherlock, "I'll never understand them. Annoying little things."

"Really? Because I think you did all of this because of emotions," Hannibal replied.

"This was a game. One which I was not willing to lose. That is all."

"But why were you not willing to lose it? I think you would've liked to keep this game between you and Moriarty go on even longer but doing that meant endangering your friends even more. For the first time in your life, your friends came first."

"I don't have friends," muttered Sherlock, looking away. "It was only a game."

Hannibal could tell that Sherlock was lying and Sherlock knew that Hannibal could tell this. Nevertheless, Hannibal didn't push it.

"I suppose I won't be seeing you for a long time then," remarked Hannibal.

"I imagine not," muttered Sherlock. "Remember, just because you've helped me doesn't mean I'll forgive your crimes. Once I'm back you're going either going to a mental institution or the afterlife."

"I suppose it'll have to be at an institution then," Hannibal replied. "I don't believe in the afterlife."

"Neither do I."


	20. Chapter 20

Several hours later Hannibal came home. He had given Will a key to his house a while ago and was not surprised when he got back from England to find him and Abigail waiting for him.

Seeing the Styrofoam box that Hannibal had, Will asked, "Did you kill Sherlock? Is that why you went over there?"

"No, I did not. This is now what remains of Jim Moriarty."

Upon hearing the name, Will took a step back, his finger nails digging into the palms of his hands. It didn't matter that Hannibal had just said the man was dead. It didn't matter that Will now killed people and ate them without so much as flinching. What Moriarty had done to him still terrified him in some ways.

"But his death did involve Sherlock did it not?" asked Abigail. "Is that the 'case' you two discussed when he and John were over?"

"Yes, in fact. Sherlock Holmes is very much alive though you can clearly not tell anyone that," Hannibal replied. "Speaking of which, how have you heard so quickly? I doubt it's gotten into the papers over here though I'm sure the internet is full of the incident."

"Actually John called me," replied Will. "He . . . he couldn't stop crying. Why would Sherlock do that to him? Why?"

"One, to get rid of Moriarty. Two, to protect his friends."

"Then why hasn't he shown himself yet? This happened over twelve hours ago. Moriarty's dead, what could Sherlock possibly be waiting for?" asked Abigail.

"He has to wait until Moriarty's organization is completely disbanded. If they knew he was alive, they would kill John and several others. For now, this is the safest way," Hannibal replied.

Will opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself. He thought about this and then his eyes widened. "That means Sherlock—"

"Yes, he knows," Hannibal said, utterly calm.

Abigail bit her lip. "Isn't that a problem though? I doubt he exactly approves of our lifestyle."

"For the next three months it is not a problem. After that, it depends," he replied.

Will was silent during this exchange and Hannibal finally asked, "Are you alright Will?"

"I'm fine," he quickly said. "Just thinking of John. I would suggest finding Sherlock and _actually_ killing him but that would hurt John. The way he sounded on the phone . . . I don't want him to hurt anymore."

"I never really considered killing him anyway," Hannibal said. "The world is a far more interesting place with him in it."

"What will we do though if he tries to catch us in the act so to speak?" asked Abigail.

"We'll find a way to get out of it. Simple as that," said Hannibal. "Now, I've made preparations so the meat in here has kept since Moriarty died. Do you care to help me with dinner?"

"You mean we sit and watch you cook," Abigail replied.

"Hmm, I was thinking this time you could actually help me."

Will's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Now William, you know as well as anyone that I don't joke about my food," Hannibal said with a sly grin. "Come on, I'll show you everything you need to do."

As he passed Will, Hannibal gave him a small kiss on the cheek. The movement made Will jump slightly, not expecting it and he automatically put his hand to the kissed flesh. Hannibal went on into the kitchen, not seeming to pay any attention to Will's reaction.

Abigail smirked, laughter and mirth in her eyes as she passed Will, adding another kiss on top of Hannibal's. While she walked up to Hannibal, she commented, "Dr. Bloom visited Will while you were gone."

"Did she? What did she say? Clearly something interesting or else you wouldn't have brought it up."

"She doesn't approve of . . . of us," Will answered walking into the kitchen. "She thinks it's unhealthy."

"So there is an us?" asked Hannibal with a smile.

Will squirmed under his gaze. "No-maybe-I guess-uh—"

"What does she find unhealthy about it Will?" interrupted Hannibal, partially out of curiosity but also so Will wouldn't have to answer the other question right now.

"She thinks of us as a pack, with you as the alpha so to speak. Alana believes that you have utter control, unlike what most relationships are based around which is equality among partners," Will slowly replied, looking at the ground.

Hannibal leaned forward, his face close to Will's. "And what do you say to that?"

"If I was my psychiatrist, or even friend, I would say that I should get out of this as soon as possible."

"But what do _you_ say?" asked Hannibal.

Abigail also leaned forward now, wondering what Will would reply with.

"I say . . . I say I don't care."

"Don't care?" questioned Hannibal with a grin.

"Even if we weren't . . . if we weren't actually together, I mean-I kill people with you! How much more unhealthy can you get?" Will said.

"And the controlling part? Do you care if I always take the lead?"

"You've always had the lead Hannibal. The only difference is now I notice it and, probably because of how much I've been around you and the kiss, Alana has noticed it to. But I don't care about it. I don't . . . I don't mind."

Abigail suppressed a chuckle at Will's embarrassed face. Hannibal leaned in and kissed him again. It was the first kiss between them where Will finally eased up and wasn't as even the slightest bit tense.

When Hannibal pulled away, he smiled and said, "Now, who's ready to begin dinner?"

The next day, Hannibal visited Will at the police academy. He said it was to see how Will was doing and what the current case was about. However, they both knew that wasn't quite true. One of the first things Hannibal did was kiss Will, establishing dominance, ownership. It made Will's face turn red but he gave a tentative smile and went back to talking about the case that they had been discussing.

Both Jack and Alana had been in their immediate company and it was easy to tell they were shocked by this display. They had heard that Hannibal had kissed Will but actually seeing it and making it clear there was now a relationship was certainly different.

Jack didn't comment on it but Alana pulled Will aside afterwards. He wasn't surprised; he'd been expecting it actually.

"You went against my judgment," Alana said, starting off what Will hoped would be a brief conversation.

"Yes, I did."

"I only want what's best for you Will."

"I know. I'm happy though. _This_ makes me happy. Honestly Alana."

She frowned, looking at him, clearly not happy with this choice. "So you are together then? Officially?"

"He kissed me in a public place. How much more official do you need?"

"It looked more like stamp of ownership to me."

Will sighed. He had known it would go something like this but it still didn't mean he wanted it to. "Well maybe I'm fine with that."

"Nobody should be fine with that Will."

"Just because society deems it normal doesn't mean it is for me. I'm not even close to normal! It's really not surprising that I would get into a relationship that wasn't exactly customary," replied Will.

"Then you won't budge?"

"No."

Her shoulders moving up and down in a sigh, Alana asked, "Will you at least listen to what I have to say about Abigail?"

"No!" Will said before she could even finish the question. "I don't care if you approve but this is my family now, or _pack_ as you put. You're a psychiatrist. I know that. You've told me plenty of times now but you're not my psychiatrist yet you seem to forget that frequently! I control my own life. I make my own decisions. I care about Hannibal and I care about Abigail. What is so wrong with that?!"

Alana was taken aback. She had never heard Will utterly shout at her like that. He wasn't fuming and yet his eyes were murderous.

"I'm sorry," she finally got out after some silence had passed.

"No I'm sor—" But Will stopped himself and looked Alana in the eye. "You know what? I'm not sorry actually. Alana, I want to remain your friend, I do care about you, but if you try to run my life for me then . . . then it just won't work."

She gave small nod, a wary look in her eyes. "Understood Will."

"Good. Just-oh you know what? I am sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you," he murmured, rubbing his face in his hands.

"No, you're right. You're an adult who can make your own decisions. Just know that whatever I say, it is because I want what's best for you," she said.

"I know. I'm sorry," Will said once more. He bit his lip and said, "I should probably get back to the case."

"Yes! I suppose so."

Will walked away without a good bye. Alana watched him leave and sighed to herself. As much as she didn't want to, she decided to stay out of this. If anything suggested wrongful treatment, she'd get involved again but until then, she would respect Will's decisions.


	21. Chapter 21

As the time for Sherlock to reveal himself came closer and closer, John and Will became that much friendlier. Despite everything, Will liked John a lot and he admired his loyalty towards Sherlock even if he hadn't liked the consulting detective personally.

Even weeks, months later, John still stuck up for Sherlock. In newspapers and on TV, magazines and the internet, the title was always the same; Suicide of Fake Detective. Despite the fact that Moriarty had supposedly never existed and there had only been Richard Brookes didn't matter to John. He didn't believe what anyone said.

Over the months, John came to America to visit them a few times. The first he had come, it had nearly broken Will's heart. He'd seemed so lost, so lonely. John hadn't been hollow though, just not fully there.

The second time he came over he was better. Still, that glint in his eyes that Will had seen the first time they'd met was not present. Often for most of his visit it was just Will and John chatting together. However, at some point Hannibal always invited him over, usually for dinner but sometimes lunch as well.

Abigail was a large help and she seemed to help John a lot too. She was extremely supportive and when she could also hung out with John. Hannibal, though they were never official sessions, did sit down and talk to John several times.

After those sessions Will noted that John usually seemed better than he had before.

During this time, Alana did what she had promised Will. She didn't try to get involved or disrupt anything and Will was extremely thankful for that. He knew she was still wary but the fact that she was trying made him feel better.

Though she didn't get involved, that doesn't mean Alana didn't notice what happened around her. It was clear how dependent Will had already become towards Hannibal, usually standing near him in conversations, always speaking to him first.

There was some good out of this nevertheless that Alana did have to admit to seeing. Will still preferred being alone, or as it was now, with Hannibal and/or Abigail, but he was getting more social. He didn't enjoy it but he was better at dealing with events that involved him to be fairly sociable.

Things like eye contact and Will's nervous ticks slowly began to improve and he smiled more often. Jack even approached Alana on the subject, questioning how she thought of Will's mental state at the moment.

She admitted that Will seemed much more stable than before.

The amount of time between John's third and fourth visit was longer than the others. When he got there, Will could see a definite change in him. He seemed much happier and even though a sadness still lurked behind his eyes there was life in him once more.

"John," said Will happily as he opened his door. He'd found himself staying at Hannibal's more and more often but he always came back to take care of his dogs. Hannibal had actually offered to take in his dogs, an act that Will was very surprised of.

Hannibal didn't seem to mind the animals whenever he was at Will's but Will was positive that his mind would change if he had to put up with them in his own home. To not even start the disaster, Will simply split his time between Hannibal's and his own home.

"How have you been John? You look better," commented Will as John walked in past him.

"I should say the same for you. You're certainly looking me in the eye more," John replied with a friendly laugh as he bent down to pet one of Will's dogs.

"You seem a lot livelier," Will admitted. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"If you've got any tea that would be fine."

Will wasn't much of a tea drinker but he'd stocked up on some that he'd discovered John liked on the occasions he came to America. Tea practically kept forever anyway so Will was fine with that.

"What did you mean I seem livelier though?" asked John as he sat down at Will's little table.

Will glanced over as he said, "It would appear that you've gotten over the death of Sherlock Holmes."

"I haven't gotten over it. His death is something I'll never get over. Have you ever lost someone Will?"

"Not anyone that was considerably close. My mom died but I never knew her."

John nodded and sighed. "Then you don't know what it's like. I'll never get over his death. It's just not possible for me but I have come to terms with it. I know he's not coming back. That's impossible and besides, it's been months anyway. There will be times when something will probably remind me of him and I'll get sad but I'm done hoping for a miracle that's not coming."

Will thought of the shock that John would be in when Sherlock finally revealed himself. Of course, he couldn't say that and simply replied, "Well I'm glad for you nonetheless."

That would be the last time Will would see John until Sherlock's return.

As time passed, Will's body count began to slowly grow. Every time he made another kill, as a reward, Hannibal would tell him another story. Even though he still only knew a fraction of his past, Will was grateful that he could finally listen to Hannibal's story.

Each tale, no matter how gruesome, did not faze Will. Not anymore. He found them interesting and in some cases fascinating but it did not disgust him. However, when Will finally found out about Hannibal's little sister it was impossible to disguise the horror in his eyes.

"They . . . . they ate her?" Will questioned, his voice soft.

"And then they fed part of her to me," Hannibal filled in. His face betrayed nothing. "I still do not remember it though."

"You don't remember . . . eating her?" asked Will.

"No. I can remember up to where they took her from me and killed her. I can remember how they killed her and what they did with each piece of her. After there is a blind spot though and I am alone in the woods with a chain around my neck."

Will gulped, taking a deep breath. "Have you tried to remember?"

"Yes," Hannibal answered honestly. "It is the only part of my mind that is locked away and hidden, the only part I cannot travel to."

"Is that why you especially kill rude people? Ones that aren't necessarily cruel but just not kind either?"

Hannibal was silent for a few moments, whether he was thinking about how to answer the question or simply going through his memories Will couldn't tell. Finally, he answered, "When I was eight I learned that there is no such thing as humans. We are all animals Will, meaning that most are worth about as much as any cow or pig."

"You say most. So you don't think all humans are like this?" asked Will.

" No I don't but many are and even my dear aunt I consider one. I care deeply about her, Lady Murasaki, but she does not understand and cannot understand what I am. She is my blood, she helped me through a very dark time in my life, but if I was put into a position where the only option was to kill her I would."

"And me? Do I fall under the same category as Lady Murasaki? A human with no more worth than a pig?"

"No, you're one of the few that's intelligent enough. I admire you William. I also admire Alana Bloom and Abigail Hobbs."

"You admired Miriam Lass as well but that doesn't change the fact that you still killed her," reminded Will. "Would you kill me? If it was beneficial to you?"

Will expected Hannibal to say yes. This just wasn't something Hannibal would lie about and yet his reply was, "No."

"Hannibal, please don't lie to me. This probably just shows how around the bend I am but if you say yes I'd understand. Yourself comes first, above everyone else."

"But then I'd be lying Will," Hannibal simply said. Upon Will's confused face, he explained, "One, because of how close we've become, if you suddenly disappeared I would most likely become a main suspect. Though I'd probably be able to get away in time they would still know who had done it. Second, the chance of meeting someone like you again is to high a chance."

Slightly shocked by Hannibal's words, Will said, "Really? Do you really mean that?"

"Every word," Hannibal answered, leaning forward and giving Will a soft kiss.

"What about Alana or Abigail? Would you ever be able to kill them?" asked Will.

"I would very much not want to do it but if I had to I would. I wouldn't regret my decision but the world would be less interesting with them not in it."

Will nodded, happy that Hannibal was being honest with him. "I wouldn't be able to kill either of them."

"I know Will. That's why I'll always protect you and do the tasks that you cannot if it is needed for our survival."

And very soon, it appeared their survival and Abigail's would soon be in jeopardy. A week after that conversation between Hannibal and Will, Sherlock revealed himself to the world. Even the American newspapers had articles on the detective and spots on the news about his 'resurrection.'

A day after his return John called Will up to inform him even though he of course already knew. It turned out that the reason it had taken so long for John to call was because he just hadn't been able to believe any of it at first.

This entire situation was a conflict of interests for Will. On one hand, he was happy John was happy because honestly did like him and the friendship that had grown between them. However, on the other hand Sherlock's return immediately put Will's life and his family's life at risk.

Despite Sherlock's early warnings though, a month passed, two months passed, and yet the detective still hadn't come after them. What was he playing at? What was his game?

Exactly what was Sherlock waiting for?


	22. Chapter 22

**AN: Thank you so much for the reviews and new followers again! Hope you enjoy this next chapter.**

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It was nearly half past seven. Alana had been sitting in her car for nearly thirty minutes now, still debating whether or not to get out of the car. She was in front of Hannibal's house and even then she was running the conversation she had with Sherlock Holmes around noon that day through her head again and again.

She had never met the consulting detective before so how could Alana be sure he was telling the truth? Nevertheless, the things Sherlock had brought to light, really it had been a list, made Alana's mind start ticking. That didn't mean she couldn't hope none of this was real and it was just a bad dream though.

After a few more minutes, she finally turned off her car and got out of it, making her way to Hannibal's door. He answered swiftly, nothing out of the ordinary displayed on his face.

"Alana, please come in. It is a surprise to see you here so late," said Hannibal as he moved aside for her. As she came in, he added, "Will is not here tonight, nor Abigail, if that is why you've arrived."

"Uh . . . no, I actually wanted to talk to you," Alana admitted.

"My office?"

"That would be fine," she said.

They walked into Hannibal's office and then he turned to her, a kind smile on his face. "Are you alright Alana? You seem uneasy. How about I get you a beer?"

"That would be great actually," she replied with a sigh. "Thank you."

"It's no trouble at all," he said. "I'll be right back."

As Hannibal left, Alana walked around, just looking at the books and drawings everywhere. She wanted some type of proof to what Sherlock had said, something substantial but everything was in order as usual.

Alana had never had the urge to poke around Hannibal's office; she'd never had reason to. Now she did so, guilt growing in the pit of her stomach. She pulled out a medical book at random and saw that one of the pages was marked. Opening it to that spot, she froze. Next to a description of some muscles in the human body was a recipe card.

The breath on the back of her neck was the only warning Alana got.

She spun around, a knife piercing her stomach. Gripping hard to Hannibal's arm, she slid down, her breathing coming in quick and fast. She looked up at Hannibal and could seeing nothing different than usual in his face.

"I am terribly sorry about this Alana," he said, gently setting her on to the ground. "But you were simply getting to close."

Alana's eyes were wide as she tried to breath evenly. It was hard though and she was bleeding badly. Trying not to attract Hannibal's attention, her left hand moved to her side, underneath her jacket. Her right hand remained firmly on Hannibal's, not that she could've stopped him from pressing the knife into her any deeper if he had wanted to.

"I never did want this to happen," continued Hannibal. "Mr. Holmes just had to get you involved didn't he? I'll be honest, I wasn't expecting that. Doesn't really seem like his style, sending in someone else to do his work. Perhaps he was doing it to protect John. Maybe he thought I wouldn't expect you. It's impossible to tell."

Her hand wrapping around the cold metal, Alana mentally prepared herself for what would come next.

"I did, still do, admire you Alana. You certainly have an amazing mind. Maybe I'll eat that first."

At the same time that Hannibal removed the knife from her abdomen was when she pulled out the gun and pulled the trigger. She'd brought it on a whim and was now extremely thankful she had. She wasn't a great shot, and even worse with her left hand, but because of how close they were and the fact she got lucky made her able to hit Hannibal in the stomach.

He pulled back, probably surprised that Alana had a gun. Hannibal looked down, blood beginning to blossom on his cloths. He moved forward again but Alana shot twice more. The second bullet missed him but the third one hit him in his right shoulder.

Alana couldn't tell if she'd hit his heart or not as he fell backwards, his head hitting the side of his desk. She raised the gun to try and firer it one more time but her hand was shaking to badly as she bled onto the floor.

Darkness began to cloud her vision as the world fell away from Alana and her body went limp.

When Alana woke up, she was extremely disoriented, unsure of what had happened or where she was. Her entire body hurt, especially the area around her stomach, and it was difficult to keep her eyes open.

The first person to walk into her vision was Jack Crawford.

"Alana! Thank god you're awake. The doctors weren't sure if you'd be able to pull through or not," Jack said. There was worry in his voice and fear in his eyes. However, there was also some contempt in his face that seemed to be battling against some form of regret as well. "We've finally caught the Chesapeake Ripper, or Rippers I should say."

Rippers. The word rang in Alana's ears. That meant what the consulting detective had said was true. It hadn't just been Hannibal. Her memories were coming back and she recalled why her stomach was hurting so badly. She also remembered exactly what she'd done to Hannibal.

She wanted to ask about him but was afraid to and instead the words that came out of her mouth were, "How-how long was I under?" Alana's voice was hoarse and soft from not being used in to long.

"It's been over a week. The doctor's were afraid you wouldn't wake up," answered Jack.

"What about-what about Will? And Abigail?" questioned Alana, dreading the answer.

Here, Jack's feelings of regret were brought to the surface. "They're currently in prison, waiting for their trial. They'll be all together, not separate. So if the death sentence is decided they'll all get the death sentence."

Alana turned away, tears coming to her eyes. This was real, not a dream, not her imagination. She was a psychiatrist. She had been Abigail's psychiatrist, colleague and student to Hannibal, and Will's friend. Yet, she hadn't seen this coming at all. Alana still wished it wasn't true.

She wanted to understand, to figure out why they'd all done it but she was to tired now. Jack's words had wounded her and she didn't want to talk anymore. Her silence made that clear and after a little while longer he left.

Positive that the next time she woke up it would be for police inquiry, Alana tried to get as much rest as possible and went back to sleep. It wasn't a dreamless sleep like before though and instead she was plagued with nightmares.

That night was played over and over again in Alana's sleep but it never turned out the way it had ended in reality. Sometimes she killed Hannibal before he could even leave the room. Other times he killed her before she could get a shot in. Someone always died and eventually Alana woke in a cold sweat, Hannibal's eyes still haunting her.

Alana was right. When she was fully awake and after the doctor checked her out, the police came. She told her story over and over again, never changing, always remaining the same. Apparently they already knew that the consulting detective had called her. He was in America do to the investigation that was taking place and the trial that would be held afterward.

According to newspapers and TV, they were now known as the Murder Family worldwide thanks to Freddie Lounds' article on them. She'd already tried to get into Alana's room to try and get a picture of 'the woman who stood up against a cannibal' but she'd been repeatedly denied.

Alana was told she'd need to make a statement at the hearing but that wouldn't be for awhile so she'd have time to heal. Alana was thankful for this. She was pretty sure she wouldn't have been able to stand up against a jury right now.

Weeks passed and as Alana became stronger and stronger she kept up with the case. No one in the Murder Family seemed to be denying anything or fighting against the law as far as she could tell. They were all helping, being completely open despite everything.

Once Alana was strong enough to walk, she immediately wanted to see Will. She didn't think she would be able to see Hannibal, at least not right now. His eyes still haunted her at night. Seeing Abigail wasn't something she wanted to do either. Alana felt like she had failed Abigail somehow and she didn't want to face that to soon.

With Will, Alana just didn't understand. That was why she wanted to see him now, before the trial. Despite the trouble that she knew he once had with looking at each murder, with getting inside a killer's head, she still had thought he had more strength than this.

Will was being kept at the male's prison in Baltimore. So was Hannibal and Abigail was at the women's. Instead of being with any of the other prisoners though, each had been separated, already earning their own little private cell.

"Do you know why none of them can be with the other prisoners Ms. Bloom?" asked the guard that was leading her to the room where she would talk to Will.

"Its doctor and no, I don't know," Alana said, dreading the response.

"Well the young woman killed one of her inmates. The offender got into an argument with Ms. Hobbs over something and so she killed her. With the other two, no one was around when it happened and all the inmates' stories are slightly different. All we know for sure is that someone hit the smaller one, I think Mr. Graham, and the bigger one, Dr. Lecter, crushed his wind pipe and knocked him to the ground."

"Did the man survive?" asked Alana.

"Yes but he has a serious concussion. He probably only survived because some officers were able to arrive quickly enough," the guard replied. "Now remember, don't reach across the table, don't hand him anything. Understand?"

Alana nodded and was then let into a small room. Will was chained to one side of the table and there was empty chair on the other side. There was a guard standing in one corner and the guard that had walked Alana down the hall locked the door behind her.

"Hey Alana," said Will, his face actually turning up in a smile.

It sickened Alana because it seemed like Will, despite being chained to a table. He looked and acted exactly like Will but the evidence told the true story. His confession said what he'd really done.

"Hello," she said softly as she sat across from him.

"I'm sorry about this. Really I am," said Will, looking down at the table. "If only Sherlock hadn't said anything, we would've been fine."

"Fine?" Alana asked. Her voice was strained and her eyes wide. "Will you . . . you killed at ate a human! More than one."

"So have you."

"What?"

"I said, so have you." Will glanced upward, no remorse or anger in his eyes. Actually, there was a bit of pity for Alana in there. "So has Jack, Jack's wife, Dr. Chilton, and anyone else who's dined at Hannibal's house."

"You mean he fed—"

"We. We fed everyone human, yes. You know those were some fun times, cooking in the kitchen with Hannibal and Abigail," murmured Will, the smile still playing across his lips from the memory. "Hannibal sends his regards by the way. He figured that you probably wouldn't want to see him before the trial."

"His regards?" asked Alana, her skin crawling at the words.

"Well yeah. It was to bad it was you Alana. I'm happy you didn't die. I mean, if you had I wouldn't be in here," Will said, "but I'm still glad you're not dead. We wouldn't have made you into a meal though. I'd make sure you had a proper burial. Well, there wouldn't be a headstone but you know what I mean."

Alana stood up, unable to listen to anymore of this.

"You're leaving already?" Will asked, his eyes showing worry. He seemed sad about her sudden departure.

"This isn't you Will," she murmured instead.

"You're smart Alana but I have to tell you that this is where you're wrong," Will said as she walked away and the door was unlocked. "I was always like this. It just took me a while to figure that out for myself. I'll see you around Alana."

She didn't have to turn around to know that the same, kind smile would still be on Will's face as he said her name.


	23. Chapter 23

The trial didn't take long and when they pleaded guilty Alana honestly wasn't surprised. Neither was she surprised when they were all deemed insane either. The trial was probably one of the smoothest and most open and shut cases in history.

Though she only had to tell her story once, she made sure to be there for the entire proceedings. In the end, they would be transferred to Baltimore's Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Alana just knew Dr. Chilton would be thrilled.

Despite Jack's suggestions that she not get any more involved in this, Alana tried to visit Will and Abigail as much as possible. She didn't know what she was trying to accomplish with them. Every time she was there it only broke her heart more and more.

She almost never acknowledged Hannibal when she was there. He also did not engage her in conversation unless she felt like asking something of him. Alana didn't understand why he was respecting her wishes of not talking to him but she was thankful nonetheless.

Hannibal's cell was the very last one in the hall, Will was next to him, and Abigail was on the other side of Will. If the other prisoners weren't to loud they could easily talk to each other but they rarely saw each other and couldn't get close enough to touch.

When Alana talked to Will or Abigail, she tried to see how they saw the world. She tried to understand their point of view but it was so hard.

Alana remembered the first conversation she had with Will was about his dogs. Despite the fact she really didn't have room, Alana took them all in. She couldn't bear to let the state take them away or someone else to adopt them. Then it would be like the very last piece of the past Will would be gone.

She came so very often over months and months. Outside of the hospital Alana had built up her life again. She wasn't necessarily happy but at least she was working again.

One day though, as she walked down the hallway towards them, Alana heard Hannibal's voice.

"This is your last visit Alana," said Hannibal from the last cell.

She hesitated for a second but finally moved so that she could look Hannibal in the face. He was standing straight up, curious, waiting for her response.

"How do you know it's my last visit?" asked Alana.

"You're steps are slower, not rushed like they always are. You know that you won't be coming back so you hesitate to leave," Hannibal replied. "Why will this be your last visit?"

"I'll answer your question if you answer one of mine."

"Fair enough," Hannibal said.

"It's getting honestly to hard to be here. I just don't understand."

"I'm not surprised. I would've wished to keep you out of this period."

"Seeing you, any of you, like this sickens me because it's so wrong what you've done and yet none of you seem to understand this."

"Right and wrong are irrelevant," said Hannibal. "Society deems what is good and bad but the individual cannot?"

"No, because that is not how society works," Alana said angrily.

Hannibal gave a small nod. "We always did have slightly different opinions about some things. Well, stay safe then Alana. We wouldn't want that stomach wound to open up anymore than it already has."

Alana wanted to run away then and there as Hannibal gave her one of those small smiles. However, she instead said, "Now you have to answer my question. Why did you never bother me when I came in here to talk to Will and Abigail?"

"You never seemed to want to talk to me."

"But I've seen journalists and psychiatrists walk through that door, the best of the best, and more often than not, even if they aren't here to interview or talk to you in particular, they later come back out blubbering like small child. Why don't you mess with my head? Why do you leave me alone?" asked Alana.

"Because I respect you and I think that you still have some respect for me."

"I have zero respect for you anymore."

Hannibal gave a small chuckle to that and looked down. When he looked Alana in the eyes again, he said, "Good bye then Alana. I doubt we'll see each other again."

Alana walked away from his cell and was now in front of Will's. He was leaning on the metal part of the bars, his eyes sad and puppy dog like as they always were when he was unhappy. "So you're leaving Alana?"

"Yes I am. This is our last good bye Will."

"Well are the dogs alright?"

"I'm taking good care of them and I wouldn't think of giving a single one away."

Will smiled. "Thank you. Good bye Alana."

She gave a small nod of acknowledgement and then came to Abigail's cell. "Hello Abigail."

"And good bye Dr. Bloom. I hope you have a nice life. Sorry about all of this," Abigail replied, her voice showing that she didn't want to talk anymore than she had to. She gave one last smile though, just like Will had.

Alana found she couldn't say anything to this and simply turned and left. It would be the last time she saw any of them.

"I'm sad she had to get involved in this," Will said as he heard the familiar sound of the metal door at the end of the hallway shut.

"She'll be fine Will. She's a strong woman. Alana will get her life in order," Hannibal said.

"Well I'm personally glad she's not coming back," commented Abigail.

"Abigail," Will chided with a sigh. "Was that really necessary?"

"What? Her little sessions were so pointless. Besides, you have to admit it's probably better for her that she's not coming back. This place doesn't exactly help a person's mental health whether they are sane or insane."

"That I can agree with," murmured Will as he sat down on his bed.

As time went by, Will knew that Hannibal was perfectly fine. He could probably kill any guard or nurse if he really felt like it or he could stay in perfect control forever. Will knew that Hannibal would get out of here eventually though. It was himself that he wasn't so sure about.

He felt that Abigail could also control herself for quite some time. Will was sure she had a breaking point but that was a long time off. Nearly a year had passed and Will could already feel his breaking point coming closer.

Sometimes Will would lay on his bed all day, sometimes he paced back and forth. He had books to read if he so desired but he could barely concentrate on them.

One day the guards were bringing him his dinner and they started to go through their usual routine. However, Hannibal, though he couldn't see Will, could hear him at all times and knew that Will needed to calm down.

"Will, don't do anything irrational," said Hannibal from his cell.

"Hey! You shut up in there," yelled back one of the guards.

Will tensed as the guard yelled at Hannibal. He knew that one of them was coming up behind him, handcuffs ready. He knew there was another guard with a taser at the ready as well.

"William, just remember to—"

But the guard interrupted Hannibal again, obviously not caring how rude he sounded.

In response, as Will felt one metal ring go around his wrist, before the other could be attached he spun around. The guards hadn't been expecting this and in the end, they were able to fix the victims jaw. However, he lost his tongue and an eye in the process. The eye had been completely crushed. The tongue had been swallowed.

After being able to release himself like that, Will was actually more pleasant in the coming months. Still, no one interesting ever came. Very boring people that Hannibal, Abigail, or Will pushed far enough so that they went crying back to who ever had sent them there in the first place.

During the afternoon one day, another visitor came. Hannibal heard the voices at the end of the hallway, behind the metal gate. They were to far away for Hannibal to understand their words but he did know one belonged to Dr. Chilton and the other to a currently unknown female.

As the metal door opened and then closed, Hannibal carefully listened to the feet. There wasn't much clicking of heals so it was doubtful she really bothered to much with appearance. She probably dressed more for practicality so less likely she was a psychiatrist and more likely she was a journalist.

She kept walking, not slowing down, so she was coming to their cells. Hannibal stayed where he was, working on a drawing. Judging from where she stopped she was standing in between his and Will's cell so she wanted to talk to both of them. Interesting.

She cleared her throat meaning that Will must've also been ignoring her. Hannibal waited a few more moments, letting her get antsy before he finally looked up. She had a folder and a clipboard in hand. Hannibal was right, she did dress for practicality. Her suit was extremely tasteless.

Waiting a few more moments, probably for Will to look up, she finally said, "I just have a few questions that I would like you to answer if you'd be so kind. My name is Clarice Starling."


	24. Chapter 24

"I'm from the FBI," said Clarice.

"Show me your credentials," Hannibal responded. She took them out and held them as far as her arm could go. "Closer."

She inched forward ever so slightly. Hannibal didn't really need her to, he was just curious if she would.

"You're one of Jack Crawford's, aren't you," murmured Will. He was leaning against the metal bars that also served as a door.

"And only a FBI agent in training at that. That expires in a week," commented Hannibal.

"A trainee?" questioned Will. He started laughing, soft and sweet. "Do you know what happened the last time Jack sent a trainee after Hannibal Agent Starling?"

"Miriam Lass you mean. He killed her and, probably, ate her as well," she replied back.

"Do you know the details?" asked Hannibal.

"No but nobody knows those. Agent Crawford tried to get it out of you but you wouldn't budge," Clarice said.

"Would you like to know them?"

"No thank you."

Hannibal gave a small smile at that reply. Her voice had shook slightly but it was clear that she wasn't going to back down. "Please, sit down Agent Starling."

Will looked in Hannibal's direction, curious what he would do this time. In the other cell Abigail commented, "I'd leave while I still have the chance Agent Starling. Otherwise you'll come out crying."

"Now Abigail, there's no need to be rude," said Hannibal.

"I wasn't being rude. I simply told her a fact," Abigail replied, plopping down and on to her bed. "I know as well as anyone how you like to mess with a person's head. This one should be easy."

Hannibal looked down, smiling at Abigail's response. He then looked up and said, "So Agent Starling, what does good old Jack want with us now? He must be quite tied up if he sent a trainee. The Bachelor is probably giving him a great deal of trouble. Tell me, why do they call him the Bachelor? The papers don't say."

"He only kills unmarried men and the ring finger on the left hand is always cut off," said Clarice. "Now Dr. Lecter, Mr. Graham if you could just take these and answer the questions—"

"No no no," murmured Will, shaking his head back and forth. "You really think you can dissect either of us with those little pieces of paper?"

"No but—"

"You know you try so hard to hide that southern twang of yours," Will interrupted, mimicking her voice. "You don't dress fancy. You don't want people to judge you just on your looks. You want to be promoted due to your skills and intelligence."

"I'm sure you had issues with your parents at home," added Hannibal. "Just couldn't wait to get out of the house so that you could prove them wrong. You want to work your way to the top of the FBI and yet you think just giving a little questionnaire to us will do that?"

"No, I just—"

"You keep on like this and you won't make it anywhere Clarice Starling. Go on! Run back to Jack and your schooling! See what happens then," said Hannibal, the grin prominent on his face.

He watched her leave, not running away like so many had before. Hannibal had sent cold hearted psychiatrists sprinting back with tears on their faces. Clarice had tears in her eyes but she wasn't letting them fall and though she shook, she didn't run away.

She gathered herself and began to walk back down the hallway, towards the metal doors. As she walked away, Hannibal moved to sit back down where he had been formerly drawing. Will lay down on his bed and Abigail gave Clarice a little wave as she passed.

However, as she walked away, Hannibal's mind began to tick. Suddenly he heard Joseph, one of the inmates mumbling his nonsense. He could hear Clarice's gasp even from here as Joseph's body fluids were flung at her through the bars. In that split second, Hannibal made a decision.

"Starling! Clarice Starling! Come back!"

Her small heels rapidly clicked on the floor as she ran back to Hannibal.

"I would never have had that happen to you Starling, discourtesy is unspeakably ugly to me."

"Then answer these questions for me Doctor!" she yelled back over the noise of the inmates making a fuss.

"No! I won't do that but I will give you something you want most of all," replied Hannibal.

Clarice was breathing heavily as she asked, "And what is that?"

"Advancement of course. Now listen very closely to me. Look up a former patient of mine, Regina Cromwell."

"But what does that have to—"

"Just look her up and go!" yelled out Hannibal and in a hurry she left.

It wasn't until he could hear the metal gate closing that Will spoke. "What was that about Hannibal? Why did you suddenly decide to help her? If that's what you actually did and not throwing her onto some random goose chase."

"She interests me," murmured Hannibal. "She gave me an idea."

"Do you mind sharing that idea with me?"

Hannibal smiled. "Do I hear jealousy?"

"No," muttered Will which only proved he was. "But seriously, what was that all about? The former patient and everything? Do you know who the Bachelor is?"

"I believe so, yes. Do not worry dear William. My interest in her is purely intellectual."

Will made a sound that suggested he was pouting and Hannibal imagined that he probably rolled his eyes to, which he did.

"Really Will, Hannibal would never think of doing such a thing to you," Abigail said with a huff. "But honestly Hannibal, you wouldn't have helped her for nothing. What is this plan that you've got in your head?"

"One that you will know of soon enough," said Hannibal.

"But you won't tell us now?"

"No, I shall not and it is for your own good. Just be patient sweet Abigail. Everything will eventually come to light."

Clarice Starling didn't come back the next day, neither did she come back the day after that though. Will wondered if this _plan_ of Hannibal's was even really working when she finally arrived again.

This time she seemed entirely focused on Dr. Lecter and Will got up, leaning against his cage to watch what he could.

"Dr. Lecter," she said with a slight nod of her head.

"Clarice, may I call you Clarice?"

She hesitated for a moment and then finally nodded, "Yes you may. Dr. Lecter, I could not find her, this Regina Cromwell. I have no idea where she is but I found that she did have a storage unit still in her name. I went to go and look in it. I found two severed arms. Why were they there? What does this have to do with the Bachelor?"

"Those arms you found are hers as I'm sure the DNA report will tell you once you get it back. She knew this Bachelor of yours," Hannibal said, this time remaining seated.

"So you know who he is?"

Hannibal looked at her, his head cocked to the side. "Perhaps. I will profile him for you . . . but on one condition."

"And what is that Dr. Lecter?"

"You transfer myself, Will, and Abigail to a different hospital."

Once again, hesitation in her eyes but she then said, "I can't make any promises. I'm only a trainee but I can try."

"Good. And one other thing. For every piece of information I give you, you must give me something in return. Something of your past," said Hannibal.

"Dr. Chilton advised me against that," Clarice replied.

"I'm sure he advised you against a lot of things now, tell me about yourself."

Clarice looked at him, her hands white knuckled. However, she finally took the chair that was leaning on the wall for visitors and sat down. "I never knew my mother. My father was a police officer."

"Is that why you wanted to become an FBI agent?"

"Yes," she said.

Hannibal gave a slight nod. He looked at her with narrowed eyes and then asked, "Where is he now? Your father? Dead I presume."

"Yes. He died during a robbery. He tried to surprise them the back way out but was shot."

"Did he die right away?"

"No. He was strong man. He died a week later," replied Clarice. For a moment, tears glistened in her eyes but they were blinked away as she leaned forward and replied, "Now, quid pro quo Doctor. Tell me about him. Tell me about the Bachelor."

"First off, what makes you think it's a man?"

"You mean the Bachelor might be a woman?" asked Clarice. "But how could he-she have killed—"

"How could a woman kill all of those men? Get me the files and I'll tell you."

"They'll probably be censored—"

"Oh I know how Jack is Clarice. Just get me enough information and I'll be able to help you."

Clarice sighed but then nodded. "Thank you Dr. Lecter."

"Anytime Clarice, I'll be here all week."

Hannibal smiled at his own little joke as Clarice left. As she walked through the hospital and then out the doors, she couldn't help but shake her head, trying to get the image out of her mind. There had been something malicious about Hannibal's smile. It shouldn't have worried her. He was a serial killer after all.

Nevertheless she felt there was something he was hiding. When Clarice finally got in touch with Jack, she didn't speak these concerns however.


	25. Chapter 25

When Clarice came back, she stopped in front of Will's cell. He looked at her, eyes running over the small details but not looking at her eyes. "Mr. Graham, Agent Crawford has agreed to hand these files to Dr. Lecter but he wants your opinion on this case."

"He wants _my_ opinion?" asked Will with a raised eyebrow, honestly shocked by this.

"Yes. He wants to take you back into the field."

The answer shocked Will and it took him a few moments to get over this. "Are you sure you heard him right? I highly doubt he wants me to see the light of day ever again."

"Yes. I'm positive. I'll admit, it appeared he didn't want to do this, but everyone knows that before all this you and Dr. Lecter made an excellent team."

"Before all this? I can assure you Agent Starling. If these bars and glass walls weren't here we'd still make an excellent team." The slight shiver that ran down her back made Will smile.

"So will you agree to it?" asked Clarice.

"How could I refuse?" he said with a smile. "I'd give the reports over to Hannibal now. I can see them afterwards."

She nodded and then walked over to Hannibal.

He looked up at her with piercing eyes. "So did Jack agree to my condition?"

"Yes. I have the document," Clarice replied. She put it, along with the case file, into the compartment that slid from one side of the cell to another. As Hannibal began to leaf through the papers, after some pause, Clarice added, "I can understand why you'd want to be moved. Dr. Chilton isn't the nicest of people."

"He also couldn't tell which way is up or down even if you gave him two guesses," put in Abigail as she listened to their conversation. "He likes to think he's all that but he's really terrible at his job."

"Yes, he likes to think he's as smart as me but all he really has is that inflated ego of his," murmured Hannibal, still going through the case. He looked up. "Sit down Clarice. Tell me something else about yourself. What happened after your father died?"

"I went to go live with my uncle."

"Was he a bad man Clarice? Did he abuse you?" asked Hannibal. He had seen the flicker of sadness in her eyes upon talking about her uncle. "Or did he die as well?"

"No. He was a very kind man," she replied. "But one night, I woke up and heard screaming. I followed the sound even though I was terrified. It was coming from his barn. I didn't want to look in but I finally did. When I did, I saw him slaughtering little lambs."

"How did that make you feel? What did you do Clarice?" asked Hannibal softly. He was studying, seeing what her reaction would be.

"I tried to save one. I dragged it through the woods. I ran as fast as I could but I couldn't save it. A police man found me in the morning," finished Clarice. "Now tell me about the Bachelor. Last time you suggested he actually might be a she. Why?"

Hannibal didn't reply immediately. He liked to see her on the edge of her seat, waiting, wondering. Finally he spoke. "Looking at the victims, you can tell that none of them were particularly strong. Not necessarily weak but not strong either. A more broad-shouldered woman with bigger bone mass or a body builder could have killed these men. Especially if she had a weapon and they didn't."

"But there has to be something else that makes you think it's a woman. Why unmarried men? Why cutting off the ring finger?"

"She has very bitter feelings for these men, at least the idea of them anyway. Though it is clear that the ring finger is her priority she does not hesitate to try and damage the bodies. She isn't a psychopath, to much passion in the killings. This is because of some memory or event that still boils her blood. Some mishap that occurred some time ago."

"But why a woman?" Clarice asked one more time. The look Hannibal gave her clearly told her to not interrupt him again if she wanted to find out. In response, she snapped shut, giving a small nod.

"Though not always true, women hold grudges much longer than men. Also, the cuts on their wrists and chests are not from a knife. Most likely from long nails," Hannibal said. "That and the method of killing has so far always been poison. Women, at least the ones that have been caught, are more likely to use poison. Really, I don't understand why more people don't use it. It's much easier to get away with a murder unless of course it's a rare type of poison."

"You say that Doctor but you didn't use poison in any of your killings. Yours were always murdered in brutal ways," said Clarice.

"I believe every butcher enjoys watching the pig squeal before he crushes the life in it. Don't you?" asked Hannibal.

"I haven't known enough butchers to make an accurate answer to your question."

Hannibal smiled at her reply. Her voice was sure, firm. "I highly doubt that Jack will allow me out of my cell so until then, I will wait until Will comes back with more information. When does Jack plan to take him?"

"The day after tomorrow."

"Has there already been another murder?" asked Will. He'd remained silent up until this point.

"No, not yet."

"Aw, so he wants to give it to me _fresh_ does he," Will murmured, a small smile playing on his lips. "Those were the days."

"May I ask a question of you Mr. Graham?" Clarice suddenly asked.

He raised an eyebrow at her, a bit surprised that she really wanted to talk to him now but shrugged his shoulders. "Why not?"

She nodded and replied, "It seems like you liked life before now. I do believe that you enjoyed catching killers so why go to killing yourself? Did you not like catching a murderer anymore? Did you think it was more fun to become one?"

Will cocked his head to the side, looking at her curiously. "No one has ever suggested that I did all of this simply for fun. You're the first one," he said with a happy grin. "To answer you, I still liked catching killers. It _was_ fun, seeing what they had done wrong."

"Because you hadn't been caught so far," put in Clarice.

"Hmm, you're smarter than you look. Anyway, before I gave in to my true feelings, I had horrid nightmares. When I started killing, I realized that the nightmares didn't scare me anymore. They were just dreams then. That and I am good at killing. It comes naturally to me, like breathing. If you try to make a fish breath air instead of water what happens to it Agent Starling?"

"It dies," she answered.

"Precisely," said Will. "I can't go against my nature. Even if I didn't give in, I automatically can think of a number of possibilities of killing you, my mind mixing with all the killers I've gone over. My level of thinking would destroy me if I didn't go with it. Which would you choose, insanity or murder?"

Clarice took a deep breath as shifted from foot to foot. "I'd like to think I'd put everyone before me and choose insanity. However, no one can really no until they're put into that kind of situation."

Will smiled and nodded. "You'll make an excellent FBI agent."

She nodded her thanks though she wasn't sure if she should really consider his comment a compliment or not. "I'm sure I'll see you later. Agent Crawford will be here two days from now."

"I'll remember that. Good bye Agent Starling. Go over the cases, look over your notes, myself and Hannibal aren't the only resources you can use. I do believe that head of yours could give you a good bit of help," Will said.

"Thank you Mr. Graham, Dr. Lecter," she said again and walked back down the hallway.

The next day was uneventful and the day after Jack came. Before Will saw him, Will got ready for transport. He was fully strapped down, barely even able to move a toe. A mask was placed over his face so that he could still talk through it but couldn't bite anyone either. They would be traveling by plane seeing as most of the murders had occurred about two states over.

Will had already said good bye to Hannibal. He said good bye to Abigail as he passed her cell. Will was put on a truck and then taken to the airfield where he finally saw Jack. Will could easily see the utter disgust in the other's face, even when he was still a ways off.

"Come on Jack. It's a nice day. Why are you looking so down?" asked Will as the person who was pushing him stopped him beside Jack.

For a moment, it looked like Jack might reply but he finally turned away and said, "The moment you don't corporate you're getting shipped back to Baltimore and the deal of you, Dr. Lecter, and Ms. Hobbs being moved to a different facility is off. Understood?"

"You always were good at giving directions." Will sighed. "Alright, I understand. I'll give you everything you need to know."

The man behind Will began to push Will up a ramp that had already been put there for him but before he could get out of earshot from Jack he added, "Keep Starling on the case. She's a good one. Maybe she'll even be your new _protégé_."


	26. Chapter 26

** AN: Sorry for the wait. Some have been saying this wasn't what they expected. Hopefully that's a good thing haha and that you still enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

While Will waited for a murder to happen, he was put into one of the cells at the local jail, the metal bars all around him. It was lonely, not being able to talk to Hannibal or Abigail, but occasionally he could get something out of one of the guards. They were frightened of Will though. He could tell.

When a murder finally occurred, he was strapped down again. However, once he was at the crime scene, Will was surprised he was taken off the contraption. He was still in a straight jacket with the mask across his face but at least he could stand on the ground on his own two feet.

He walked into the building, guns trained on him and Jack in front. Will imagined stepping forward and cutting Jack's throat. But he was restrained and he would've been shot before he could even get a knife to Jack's neck.

Inside the building, a house, Will saw Beverly, Jimmy, and Bruce waiting with their tools and equipment. They must have known he was coming but their faces still seemed shocked upon seeing him. They had seen Will once during the trial but never after that.

He nodded towards them but didn't speak. Despite everything Will didn't want to scare them.

Jack glanced at Will and then said, "You'll have thirty minutes, no more no less. You won't be alone there'll be guards with you at all times."

"You know, you use to say I could wait, that I didn't have to say anything until I was ready," commented Will.

"Yeah, well that was before you decided that murdering for pleasure was okay," Jack growled back as he walked out of the room.

Will looked at the guards standing around him. He didn't recognize any of them. Looking back at the crime scene in front of him, he carefully stepped forward, knowing full well that if he moved to quickly they might shoot.

The man was in the same position as the others. Most wounds were postmortem and his left ring finger was cut off. The slight foam around his lips told Will he was most indefinitely poisoned.

It had been a while since he'd done this but he hadn't lost the feel for it at all. Will actually enjoyed immersing himself into this killer's mind more so than usual, simply because it had been so long.

When he opened his eyes again, the guards were gone and the man on the floor was up and moving back. Will walked back through each door until he was outside the house. Taking another deep breath, he moved towards the house.

Will rang the doorbell and waited for the man to answer it.

"I am polite. I say something about being a sells person or other. The victim invites me in, unknowing that I will be the last person he sees."

The man offered the killer a drink, Will accepted. The man also got a drink for himself. When he wasn't looking, Will slipped poison into the man's drink. The poison was slow enough so that he realized what was happening but quick enough so he couldn't do anything about it.

Will looked down at the man his hands tightening. With a sudden ferocity, he began to hit the dead body. He was enraged. He felt hurt and betrayal and hatred for this man that he had never seen before.

"After getting my anger out, I cut off his finger to keep as a trophy. I clean up after myself as best I can. I do a better job than the last house. This is my design."

When he came back to himself, Will had to take a deep breath. The murder was still fresh on his mind and he was slightly sad that he hadn't committed it himself. Will turned to one of the guards.

"Get Jack for me." When the guard hesitated, Will sighed and said, "Now, would you rather get him or should I walk out there and get him myself?"

The guard quickly shook his head and went out of the room. Jack came a few seconds later. "What is it Will?" he asked.

"Well, Hannibal was right. It is a crime of passion more than anything. She didn't know the man either. She probably got in here pretending to be from some magazine or sales person."

"Is this like the Hobbs case though? There's one golden ticket amongst all of them?" asked Jack.

"No. The point with these men is not that they were ones that denied her heart supposedly or her hand in marriage. The point is that _no one_ has ever loved her. She feels like she should be loved but she isn't so she is taking it out on these people. She takes the left ring finger as a trophy so that even in death only she can possess it."

Jack nodded. "What kind of person are we looking for? Is she ugly? Large?"

"Not necessarily. The extent of the wounds shows force so she is probably a body builder of some sort. She may not be ugly but she certainly won't be extremely pretty. It's very likely she has a sibling that is better looking than her too. It could've helped in spurring her into actions. She most likely lives in the area."

"Anything else Will?"

"Not really," replied Will. "I'd get this information to Clarice by the way. She's a smart girl. You really are lucky to have her."

Will meant what he said but he also spoke those words because he could see the disgust in Jack's eyes, talking about his trainee. Jack didn't take the bait though and gave a small nod. "Alright. You'll stay here in case there's another murder before we catch her. Once it's over, you, Dr. Lecter, and Ms. Hobbs will be taken to another hospital as the agreement said."

"Thank you Jack," said Will. The guards began to move him back. He'd be put into that contraption again and then taken back to his cell. Before he could go though Will added, "It's lovely working with you again Jack. It really is."

The anger and distaste in Jack's eyes made Will smile.

Once he was back at the jail cell, it gave Will some time once more to think. He'd lately been wondering about why Hannibal would help Clarice. He knew that the young woman interested Hannibal but there was defiantly more to it than that. He'd even admitted to it. Hannibal only hadn't explained himself.

Sitting in the cell, Will located all of the security cameras. There were doors on either end of the hallway leading to different areas of the prison. A guard periodically walked by every few minutes or so. He'd stand at one end for a while and then walk to the other and stand some more. It seemed extremely boring to Will.

There were other prisoners in the hallway but Will had ceased talking to them. None of them interested him in the slightest and none of them even had an interesting story to tell either. They were all quite lowly in their intelligence and the design of their crimes.

Will had occasionally thought about escaping but it would be quite difficult. The doors on either end were locked. He knew this because he could hear the keys rattling every time someone came into the hallway.

Escaping. Will said the word in his head again, loving the idea. It would be so wonderful if he could get out. Even though it would be difficult it would still probably be easier than trying to escape the hospital. It was at that moment it hit Will.

Of course. Hannibal wanted him to escape. That would be perfect. He could get away and then go to get Hannibal and Abigail. Breaking them out of the hospital wouldn't be to difficult.

This realization caused Will to start thinking about escaping all the more. Then the perfect day seemed to arrive. On one end, to the right, Will could hear the door opening. Just as it was opening the guard was walking by his cell.

With rapid movements, Will reached out and grabbed the guard. He pulled him towards him so quickly that his head hit the metal bars and he became easily dazed but not knocked out. Will reached for the man's keys, taking hold of him as he heard the man on the far end that had opened the door yell stop.

Will didn't though and used the keys to open the door as a shot was fired. It was a warning shot, making it clear that in advance it had been decided that Will couldn't be killed. However, giving a warning shot was a mistake as Will kicked the other guard's face in, took his gun, and fired at the other officer on the other end. He didn't kill him, but the shot did take him down.

Will ran towards the ajar door and shot another officer on the other side. The inmates either yelled at him to let him out or cheered Will on. He just wanted them to shut up.

He moved through the next hallway and used the keys to open the door. Almost immediately after the door was opened Will was shot in the arm.

The wound wasn't fateful and though it hurt he quickly responded, shooting this man. This one he killed. Will had wished to leave the prison without any loss of lives but he knew he wouldn't cry over one more body on his soul. It appeared that they weren't worried about hurting him anymore either. They just wanted him locked up or in box six feet under.

The next room was almost like an office of sorts were processing was probably done for the prisoners. There were windows here and they were on the first floor.

Will made a break for it.

He shot several more people, was shot in the leg, and grabbed another gun from someone else before he jumped through the open window. Will was not lucky in the fact that it was night and he was not hidden by darkness. He ran nonetheless and made it to where the fence was.

Even with the bullet wounds, he was able to climb over. There weren't any FBI agents at the prison and Will was grateful for that. He'd probably already be dead or at least captured. However, these local cops obviously had never had anyone break out and were not prepared.

Will was already on the street by the time that anyone at the station even thought about calling Jack Crawford.


	27. Chapter 27

Hannibal was reading when Dr. Chilton came to his cell. Dr. Chilton probably wanted Hannibal to look up at him, ask what he was there for, but Hannibal wasn't going to give him that satisfaction. He waited until Dr. Chilton finally started talking, whether Hannibal seemed to be paying attention or not.

"It would appear that you won't be leaving me as soon as you thought you might," he said, obviously quite smug about it. "Your little bird fled the coop."

"You mean Will escaped?" asked Abigail, surprise clear in her voice.

"Yes he has and therefore the deal is off. Your staying here from here on out."

Hannibal still didn't look up. Dr. Chilton waited a little while longer, probably wanting some type of rise out of him. However, he wasn't going to get one and finally he began to leave. Before he was to far down the hall though, Hannibal finally spoke, still not moving from his book.

"How often do you go home Dr. Chilton?" asked Hannibal.

"That's none of your business and there would be no point in you knowing such a thing either," muttered Dr. Chilton, confused by the question.

"Hmm, well, when you do get home sleep tight then," Hannibal murmured.

The rest of the day was uneventful. The day after Jack Crawford came. He was angry, annoyed, maybe even a bit hurt. Seeing Will again had probably not helped his mind, wishing that things could be the way they were before. Jack stopped in front of Hannibal's cage and Hannibal glanced upwards at him, deciding that he might as well amuse him for a bit.

"Where might Will go?" asked Jack.

"I have no idea."

"Don't play with me Dr. Lecter. You have some idea where he is or where he's going."

Hannibal let Jack squirm before he suggested, "I'd check on Dr. Bloom. He might want to say hi to her and his dogs. You never know."

"Is that only place you think he'd be?" asked Jack. His hand was already slipping into his pocket, ready to call Alana.

"Not unless he had any other friends," Hannibal replied.

Jack nodded and then left, quickly getting into contact with Alana. Hannibal watched him go and couldn't help but smile. How could Jack not think of the obvious place? Maybe he thought Will really didn't care about Hannibal or Abigail as much as he did freedom.

Nevertheless, Hannibal was a bit surprised when Clarice visited several days later. Hannibal hadn't expected to see her again but was pleased that she was there nonetheless.

"You're upset," Hannibal remarked before she could get a word out. "There's no need to be. You didn't lose Will."

"I . . . I know but I feel so stupid. I feel like there was something I could've done," muttered Clarice.

"Even though Jack likes you, you're still a trainee. I doubt you would've been able to do much more besides just annoy a few people and get taken off the case," replied Hannibal. "Why are you here anyway?"

"I want to know where Will is going."

Hannibal smirked. "No need to ask. Jack's already been here."

"And you've sent him to Dr. Bloom. I know that already but I want to know where he's really going Dr. Lecter."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Will Graham wouldn't go to Dr. Bloom's right now. He may have been her friend in the past but she isn't his priority now."

Hannibal raised an eyebrow. "How do you know that?"

"I could tell how much he adores Abigail. He's also infatuated with you Dr. Lecter. He wouldn't just leave you here."

"Then you tell me where he is because you just said the answer."

"But—" She stopped, realization coming to her face. Clarice quickly said, "There's no way he'll be able to get you out though. He must realize that! Oh god I have to—"

Before she could say anything else all the lights went out and they were thrown into darkness.

"He's here," murmured Abigail in a sing song voice.

Hannibal heard the rustle of clothing and he shook his head in response. "You don't have your gun Clarice. Remember, they take firearms from you before you come in."

Clarice dropped her purse on the ground, not really caring about it anymore. All her nerves were on edge. Suddenly, the emergency lights came on, bathing the corridor in a haunting red. Some of the prisoners were screaming, some were silent.

The guard at the end of the hallway had his gun out. He looked down to where Clarice was and yelled out, "Miss! Stay where you are. It's probably just a storm blowing down power lines."

Clarice gulped. As the guard unlocked the gate and went through it, closing it on the other side, she murmured, "But it was clear when I came in."

She looked to Hannibal, the red light reflecting in his eyes. "There's no need to be afraid Clarice. You'll be perfectly fine."

She began to reply but stopped as she heard sounds of a gun. Her automatic reaction was to reach for her gun but once again, she remembered that it wasn't there. Clarice began to walk forward. She passed the prisoners and came to the gate, her fingers wrapping around the bars.

Trying to decide whether or not to call out, Clarice remained silent for the moment. She flinched as she saw a form beginning to come towards her but calmed down as she saw it was the guard again. He came towards her and was unlocking the gate as he said, "Miss, I'd like you to come with—"

He never finished his sentence as he was shot dead.

Clarice's automatic reaction was to run but she didn't have any where to run to. Her next reaction was to drop to the ground as she retrieved the fallen man's gun. When she looked up Will Graham was in front of her.

She brought the gun up and said, "Mr. Graham you are—"

"No I'm not. I'm finally free my cage. Either I walk by you or you shoot me," replied Will. There was fear in her eyes he noted but the grip on the gun didn't waver.

Clarice stood up, the gun still pointed at Will. "How many?"

"How many what?"

"How many have you killed so far?" asked Clarice.

"One at the prison. I didn't mean to but it was necessary to get away."

"And here?"

"Every guard and two nurses. I don't really care for the people here," Will said, his voice completely calm. "I didn't kill Dr. Chilton though. I let him piss himself from fright and pass out though. That was fun to watch."

"Mr. Graham, put the gun on the floor and place your hands behind your head now."

Will cocked his head to the side. "You'll catch the Bachelor. I'm sure of it."

His words caught her off guard. He wasn't insane despite what so many said and his way of acting in such a situation confused Clarice. It caused her to relax only a split second but that gave Will enough time to fire at her.

Clarice fired back in response as she fell to the ground. She could hear a faint cry of someone yelling Will's name.

"You nearly got me Agent Starling," murmured Will, his breath coming in quickly. He'd shot Clarice in the stomach. She'd shot him only centimeters away from the heart. "I'll be right back little bird."

With obvious pain in his eyes, Will made his way down to Abigail's cell, quickly unlocking the door with a ring of keys he had found from a different guard.

"Are you alright Will? How many times have you been shot?" she asked worriedly.

"Four now," he murmured. "I'm fine though, really."

Will walked passed his empty cell and unlocked Hannibal's. Before Hannibal could move passed him he pulled him into a fierce kiss. "I've been waiting to long to do that."

Hannibal smirked and then began to inspect Will's wounds. "I'll need to find some material but I believe I can get the bullet out. You'll be fine."

"Starling might not be," remarked Will.

Glancing to the other end of the hallway, Hannibal walked towards Clarice and then knelt beside her. "Shot to the lower abdomen. It could be a lot worst," Hannibal commented as he began to apply pressure.

"You'll get caught if you stay any longer," whispered Clarice.

"She's right Hannibal. We need to go," said Abigail.

Hannibal looked over to Will and Abigail. His eyes traveled back to Clarice. He decided this would be the last time he would ever see this girl. Hannibal knew she could've been an interesting person to play with but the games they could've played would not happen now.

"Good night sweet Clarice."


	28. Chapter 28

Before the news of Hannibal and the rest of the Murder Family's escape got into the papers, Pascal Popil passed away in his sleep. He died believing that the murderer who had plagued most of his young adult years was in prison. Popil died happy.

Lady Murasaki did not have that luxury. She read the entire story and it broke her heart even more than her nephew's capture had. With Hannibal locked up, she had at least been able to pretend that he might be getting some type of help.

Reading about all the carnage he had caused sickened her, especially because she knew he'd continue on with killing.

Lady Murasaki died several days later with a broken heart.

As she was laid to rest, Clarice woke up in a hospital.

She was alone and confused as she looked around. Clarice tried to sit up but it hurt to much and she quickly had to lay back down. Slowly, everything came back to her.

It was surprising she wasn't dead.

Hannibal's words ran through her head again and again. She'd thought for sure that he meant 'good night' as in death. Clarice had seen the look in his eyes. It was a farewell, a good bye. Despite this it appeared that he had saved her.

Clarice knew that if he'd left her she'd be dead from blood loss. Even if paramedics had arrived on the scene quick enough it was still extremely doubtful she would've survived.

As she debated whether or not to call in a nurse yet, the phone on the night stand was ringing. Clarice frowned. No one knew she was awake yet so who could possibly be calling?

She reached for it but had to stop as her wound stretched. The phone continued to ring and she reached a bit farther, finally taking hold of the chord. She pulled on it and the phone fell off the receiver. Clarice pulled up the phone by the chord and when she put it to her ear she was met with silence.

There wasn't even the sound of breathing on the other end so finally Clarice asked, "Hello?"

"Hello Clarice. How is my little Starling doing?" asked Hannibal from the other end.

Clarice gulped and then replied, "You saved me. Why?"

"No point in letting you die. Besides, I didn't have time to make a proper meal out of you anyway."

A shiver rolled down her spine. "But you could've left me there. Ms. Hobbs and Mr. Graham don't like me or at least don't really care for me. They probably would've been fine with letting me die."

"Abigail yes, Will actually sends his regards and apologizes for the whole shooting."

Some how Clarice didn't really believe that and even if Will had said that, it was probably because Hannibal had asked him to. "Where are you now Dr. Lecter?"

"Oh no, I won't be telling you that dear Clarice. This will be the last time we speak but I'll keep my eye on you. You'll do great things Clarice. I know that," Hannibal said.

The phone gave a small click as he hung up but Clarice didn't put the phone down. She was frozen, thinking about how she should tell Jack about all this. When a nurse finally came by she found Clarice still in the same position.

After having a doctor come in and do a quick check of her, Jack came by. He told her everything that happened even though she remembered all the details. Hannibal, Will, and Abigail had all escaped and no one knew where they were going.

"Do you have any ideas Starling?" asked Jack.

"No sir but there is something I need to tell you," Clarice said. She paused, more from the shock that it had actually happened than suspense. "Dr. Lecter called me. After his escape."

"When?" asked Jack quickly.

"Almost immediately after I woke up. He didn't tell me where he was and there wasn't any sound in the background to suggest where he might be. Dr. Lecter wasn't on long enough for a trace either and he promised that the conversation we had would be the last one we would have."

Jack was silent. Anger and pain went across his face as he finally said, "Is there anything else you can tell me Starling? Anything at all?"

"No sir."

"Then get some rest. I'll need you up and ready as soon as possible," replied Jack as he left.

The next few weeks were some of the hardest Clarice had ever gone through. Besides the obvious reasons, she also had a number of journalists trying to see her. Now there was a new woman, a new person who had 'survived Hannibal the Cannibal.' Freddie Lounds was the most persistent and annoying one of them.

Clarice didn't usually hate people on site but Freddie was one of the few.

Jack's mood wasn't helping either. Even though she didn't see him often, she knew everything must be getting to the man. Not only had an entire group of murders escaped but the Bachelor was still avoiding them and Jack's wife was dying.

Apparently Hannibal had sent Jack a letter after a few weeks, saying that he was sorry how soon Bella's death would be. Jack asked Clarice if she had shared any type of personal information involving Jack with Hannibal. Of course she hadn't and neither had Jack so it was a mystery how Hannibal could know how much worse Bella's condition was.

As Clarice became stronger and she left the hospital, she started going back to class. She did shooting practice even more often than normal too. It was doubtful that she would be asked to get back on the case for the Bachelor but that didn't mean Clarice should stop practicing.

She also met with Alana a few times. Some of the psychiatrists and special agents thought it might be a good idea, especially sense they had gone through the same experience. Clarice honestly hadn't found it that helpful though she did like Alana.

Though she wasn't fully healed, Clarice was surprised when Jack let her come back onto the case. She couldn't do to much, mostly paperwork, but at least she was doing something useful.

Freddie Lounds continued to annoy her until one day she simply didn't. No one seemed to know where she had gone or what had happened to her until Clarice received a letter. It read:

_Dear Clarice,_

_ I apologizing for letting it go on for so long. I had to take some time from America for a bit and simply couldn't deal with your problem. Miss Lounds will bother you no more however. I also see you've been hanging around Dr. Bloom. Send her my regards._

_ Hannibal Lecter M.D._

It was of course taken to the FBI at once but they didn't find anything. There weren't finger prints, hair, and the letter itself couldn't be traced back. It was a dead end and only made Clarice all the more irritated.

As they came closer and closer to catching the Bachelor, Clarice was able to think less and less of Hannibal. There was always sometime in the day when he would cross her mind but at least she could forget about him when she immersed herself in work.

One day, she was supposed to be reviewing people who had known the most recent victims. It was supposed to be a simple job and Clarice should've been back at the office before it got to dark outside.

However, she was not that lucky and one of the women she came across was none other than the killer.

The papers printed copy after copy as some lifted her up onto the highest pedestal and others blamed Jack for the danger she had gotten into. Clarice had to go to the hospital again, getting hurt but not mortally so in the fight.

On the first night she was able to sleep in her own bed, Clarice couldn't help but think about how glad she was that Freddie Lounds wasn't alive anymore. If she had been, her current situation would probably be even more stressful.

The thought sickened her a bit but Clarice couldn't deny that it was true.


	29. Chapter 29

Will stretched as he stepped off the airplane. The air was warm and humid, palm trees, blowing in the breeze. He had always enjoyed the heat and coming here to the tropics had been his own request. He'd been extremely pleased when Hannibal had agreed.

Everything was going extremely well but nevertheless Will was still a bit jealous. He suspected that this factored into Hannibal's choice to come here. Clarice Starling had just become an official investigator and been given a reward for the capture of the Bachelor.

Her accomplishments and rewards weren't what annoyed Will. He could care less about that. It was the fact that Hannibal was so curious about her. That and he'd sent a bottle of wine that had been bottled the year of her birth to her as a gift for everything.

It felt wrong that Abigail was always the one telling him that it was alright and that Will didn't have anything to worry about.

Still, the warm air and the sun on the back of his neck was improving his mood and he turned to Hannibal and Abigail, quickly saying, "I have to make a phone call before we continue on. Do you mind getting my bags for me?"

"Not at all dear Will."

Hannibal seemed to be using the word 'dear' a lot more simply to try and appease him. Will didn't mind a bit.

As Will walked to a pay phone, he looked ahead to see a man who had also just gotten off their flight. He was the reason that Hannibal had chose this particular flight when he'd discovered the man was going here.

Will quickly dialed the number. On the other end, someone answered and asked, "Hello?"

"Hi John. How are you?" asked Will

There was silence on the end for quite some time and Will would've thought he might've hung up if not for the breathing on the other side. Finally, "Why are you calling me Will?"

"I didn't get to see you at all during the trial and you never did visit me in my cell," Will remarked.

"There was no reason for me to get involved in the case," replied John and Will could hear the pain and hurt in his voice.

"Well I simply wanted to say hello. It's been to long sense we've talked. Sadly I must go in just a few seconds," said Will.

"I thought we were friends Will."

"We still are, at least from my point of few. If there's ever anyone bothering you just put it up on that blog of yours. I'll be sure to help you out."

"You—"

"I apologize John but that is all the time we have. Send my regards to Sherlock. Hannibal and Abigail say hello as well."

"But—"

"You must excuse me now. I'm about to have an old friend for dinner," Will said. "Good bye John."

Will put the phone back on the receiver and began heading towards Hannibal and Abigail. Their target was still there, arguing with some man about not being able to find his baggage.

"He's still as rude as ever," muttered Abigail as they looked at him.

"That is most certainly true," Hannibal murmured. "I doubt he's become anymore intelligent either. Are you ready to pay Dr. Chilton his last visit?"

Will smiled, the thought extremely pleasing to him.

Over in England, as Will, Hannibal, and Abigail advanced on Dr. Chilton, John remained sitting with his phone in his lap when Sherlock came back to the flat.

Sherlock frowned. "Who called you?"

"Will did. Will graham," murmured John. He looked over at Sherlock but it seemed the news hadn't affected him. Sherlock seemed unconcerned about this and it confused John. "Aren't you-I don't know. Aren't you going to try and call the police or something? Get Lestrade here?"

"Nope," Sherlock replied as he sat back into his chair and pulled out a newspaper.

John sighed, confused by this. "You know, I never did understand why you didn't take the case."

"What case?" asked Sherlock, pretending to be absorbed in his newspaper even though he really wasn't.

"You know what case, the Lecter case, the Murder family case. The FBI asked you to help but you refused. Why?"

Sherlock shrugged his shoulders. "Because."

"Because why?"

"Do I need any other reason?"

It was tempting to just hit Sherlock upside the head but John resisted it and replied, "You always have a reason. Usually it's just because the case is to boring but that isn't the reason this time. Why did you refuse the case?"

Sherlock looked at John from over the top of the newspaper, clearly annoyed with him. However, he sighed and replied, "Dr. Lecter did me a favor, I'm simply doing one for him. Besides, I like it here in London. I don't want to go gallivanting around the world after him and his little family."

"A favor? That's it. That's why you won't go after him?" asked John.

"I already caught him once. I really don't want to do it again. Besides, Sebastian Moran being a much more interesting opponent than I first thought."

"So you're just going to let them go? You're just going to let keep killing and not try to stop them at all?"

"Would you like me to stop them John? Do you want Will Graham and little Abigail Hobbs or even Dr. Lecter to be put into a hospital for the criminally insane again?"

John paused. Finally he gave a slight shake of his head as he replied, "No I don't but it would be the right thing to do to try and catch them."

Sherlock sighed, finally giving a small smile that was nearly kind. "This is hard on you John. I can tell. Your sense of right and wrong are at odds right now. That's why I won't go after them. Because I know if I did you'd always regret sticking those three in an asylum for the rest of their lives, being poked and prodded like lab rats."

"But if we don't go after them then I'll regret every single life they take," replied John.

"Then what would you have me do John?" Sherlock asked curiously. "It would seem either decision you make you'll regret."

John was silent, not sure what he should do. However, he found himself deciding not to turn them in. Despite everything, when he had thought Sherlock to be dead, all three had been there for him. Will had especially helped make that time better for John and had helped him through the pain.

He found that he couldn't go back on them now because of that. If he'd never become their friend, maybe. Maybe he would've turned them in but now he found he just couldn't no matter the consequences.

John looked at Sherlock and Sherlock could see his answer in his eyes. Sherlock looked back at the newspaper and then snapped it shut. "Let's see what Sebastian Moran has cooked up for us this time then."

Sherlock and John never heard from Will again or Hannibal and Abigail for that matter. They stayed in London, take case after case and every murderer, conman, or kidnapper that they caught John felt just a little bit better. He knew that the fact he never did pursue the Murder Family would always haunt him though.

Will visited London three times over the next five years. He always did it just to check on John and make sure he was alright. The rest of the time when he wasn't in London the thought of John or Sherlock rarely ever crossed his mind.

Hannibal, Abigail, and Will traveled the world. They went where they wanted to go, saw famous buildings and paintings. It was extremely enjoyable but eventually it became clear that the idea of settling down was tempting to all of them.

Before they could even think about settling down though, there was one last thing that Will and Hannibal wanted to do.


	30. Chapter 30

Will carefully unlocked the house, his eyes roaming the dark room. The moon shined in through a window, creating long shadows here and there. Suddenly, the empty room was full of wagging tails and glowing eyes but there still wasn't any noise.

The dogs crowded around Will, their tongues out in happiness as they recognized their former owner's sent. Will counted them all and saw that there were two missing. After looking over them again he saw that the two missing had been the oldest out of this group of dogs.

A small sad smile came to his lips as he mentally said good bye to them and petted each and every dog.

One of the dogs from the back of the group padded up and if Will didn't know better he would've said he was grinning.

"Hello Winston. Hi sweet heart," murmured Will.

Slowly, he got back up and began to walk out of the room and into the living room of the house. However, the dogs began to follow him and Will had to put his hand up, showing them that he wanted them to stay there.

The dogs sat obediently as Will walked through the house and up the stairs to the main bedroom.

Yesterday Alana had gotten married. Her and her husband were supposed to go on their honeymoon tomorrow but tonight they were staying in their home. Will walked into the room and smiled upon seeing them curled next together.

Alana seemed at peace in her sleep and that made Will happy. He walked up beside Alana and took out a letter from inside his jacket. It was addressed to Alana and was made of extremely expensive paper.

He placed it against the lamp on her nightstand so that her name was facing towards her. He gave her one last smile and then began to head out of the house. Before he went he hugged all his dogs one last time. Will wished he could take each and every one of them with him but he sadly could not.

As Will left Alana's house, Hannibal was just then entering Jack's. Whereas Will's letter to Alana was of congratulations, Hannibal's letter was of condolences. Two months ago Bella had finally passed away.

Hannibal was very sad for this, having admired Bella quite a bit. The letter was full of honesty towards Jack even though he knew the letter would probably only anger the agent.

He wondered if Jack would ever feel peace again. He highly doubted it.

When both Alana and Jack discovered their letters, Hannibal and Will were long gone. They had met Abigail at the airport and were now on their way to Florence, Italy.

When Alana discovered her letter, she had to put on a brave face and pretend there was nothing wrong. She couldn't afford herself to freeze up or cry over it. She probably shouldn't have but she read the letter first before she sent it to the FBI.

Jack only touched the letter to send it to the FBI. He didn't read it and he told Jimmy that he didn't care what was written on it either.

The evidence showed that the letters were from Hannibal and Will but they still had no idea where they were. For several more months the Murder Family case flared up again but when no more evidence was found it started to die down once more.

Through all those months Hannibal and his family remained in Florence. Hannibal was able to kill the curator to one of the oldest archives in Florence and was now only against one other man for the job. Everyone could tell that Hannibal would get it but it would be just a few more days until the board made the official decision.

Still, already Hannibal and his family had moved into the place and Hannibal had nearly full permission to go through the archives.

Hannibal already knew Italian perfectly but was currently teaching Abigail and Will the language. Abigail was picking it up fairly quickly but it would take awhile before Will really got it.

Currently they sat at a little café. Will was trying to get use to this finer life but it still felt odd drinking from the beautiful cups on their matching saucers. Really, Hannibal didn't have to work at all, none of them did and they could've kept this lifestyle.

Through an intricate web, much of their victims' money, especially the richer ones, could be accessed easily and it was untraceable. The idea of working with these ancient texts and drawings from hundreds of years ago appealed to Hannibal though and it helped them to establish a good background.

"Now Will, repeat after me alright? La giornata è bella," said Hannibal.

"La giornata è bella," Will repeated. "Now what does that mean?"

Hannibal chuckled slightly. "The day is beautiful. That is what I said. You're getting better at pronouncing the words correctly. You just need to start memorizing them."

"I know," sighed Will. He looked over at Abigail. "I don't understand how you've picked it up so quickly."

"Well I'm not perfect with it. I still have a ways to go," Abigail replied with a shrug.

"Yes but you're not only learning Italian but French as well right now and doing very well with both of them. I'm only learning Italian and I'm still struggling."

"Hmm, how about this? Do you know what this means?" asked Hannibal. "Non riesco a esprimere facilmente/La forma fresca questo angelo somiglia/Che sembra aver disceso dal cielo."

"Hannibal! Of course I don't know what it means. Come on, tell me," Will pleaded.

Hannibal didn't say anything at first, letting Will plead a bit more until he finally said, "It sounds better in Italian but I'll say it in English for your sake. I cannot easily express/The fresh form this angel resembles/Who seems to have descended from the sky. It's part of a poem from the Italian Renaissance that I found in the archives."

Will blushed. "I'm not that good looking and I'm certainly no angel."

"You're a beautifully _dark_ angel in my opinion."

"Oh you two stop it," muttered Abigail. "Recite poetry to each other when I'm not around."

Will couldn't help but smile at that and he was about to reply when a small crash happened nearby. The poor waiter was hyperventilating, apologizing over and over again. The woman sitting down who had the cup fall all over her stood up.

You could barely see the stain seeing as her dress was black and it would probably come out really easily. When the cup broke it hadn't cut her either yet she was stringing a slew of curse words at the waiter.

Everyone was staring, making the waiter's nerves go even more on edge. It was clear that this was probably his first day on the job.

"I think I know what I want for dinner," commented Abigail.

"I already have a wonderful recipe lined up," Hannibal said. He smiled at Will. "Care to help me with it?"

"Can I play with our food before we cook it?" asked Will.

Hannibal gave a predatory smile as he leaned in and kissed Will. He looked over to Abigail and said, "How about we all have a bit of fun then? Some quality family time."

They grinned at each other, continuing to eat their lunch as their future victim continued to yell at not only the waiter but the manager of the coffee shop as well. Hannibal would make sure their quality family time would be extremely . . . messy.

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**AN: One more chapter after this. Hope you've enjoyed this as much as I have ^^.**


	31. Chapter 31

Hannibal couldn't help but chuckle as Will continued to glare at the sight of Abigail and her new boyfriend.

They had been living in Florence for five years now and so far every boyfriend Abigail got Will had disliked. Hannibal liked a few and really, Abigail did have good taste. Nevertheless, Will probably just didn't want Abigail to grow up to much.

This particular boyfriend might actually be a really good choice though. Hannibal couldn't help but think that he seemed slightly off and in what he considered a good way. He glanced over at Will and continued to smile.

"Cheer up Will. She'll be perfectly fine," Hannibal said.

Will frowned. "I don't know. I mean, anything could happen. What if—"

"For the last time Will, Abigail has good judgment. Besides, she is completely capable of taking care of herself. Come now, we can start on dinner," replied Hannibal.

Sighing, Will went back inside with Hannibal as Abigail headed out on her date with her new boyfriend.

Hannibal had gotten the job and so they had been living at the archives for the past years. It was extremely nice and Will felt that he was always discovering something new in the place even after five years. The only thing he didn't like was that he couldn't have any dogs in it.

They walked to the kitchen and the place was even better stocked than Hannibal's kitchen had been in America. Will sat on one of the counters as Hannibal began to take different ingredients out and place them out.

"I suppose this is as good a time as any time to tell you this," Hannibal said, "but I'm going to America soon."

Will frowned. "What? Why?"

"Paul Krendler has been trying to stunt Clarice's career, giving her bad missions, blaming her for things that she shouldn't be blamed for. I'm going to put a stop to him and then little Starling's flight path won't be blocked any longer. Jack's been backing her up but only Krendler's death will really help her."

"So you're still worked up on Clarice," Will said softly.

Hannibal raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong William?"

"It's been forever since you've talked about her and yet . . . what you just said must mean you've been checking up on her. And frequently."

"Yes I have. Does that worry you?"

"It . . . irritates me a bit," admitted Will.

"I do not love her if that is what you're worried about."

"But she interests you. That's bad enough."

Hannibal stopped what he was doing and walked over to Will. He put his hands onto the counter on either side of Will's side and leaned in close. "She does interest me. She's bright, strong, has good reflexives. Clarice will be someone but she will never interest me as much as you do."

"But you do little things for her. You killed Freddie Lounds for her too."

"And I've killed probably hundreds for you," Hannibal said. "Tell me honestly, would you prefer it if I left Clarice alone? If I let her spark burn away as Paul Krendler stomps out her career?"

Will hesitated and then finally gave a very small, hesitant nod. "I . . . I would prefer that."

Hannibal continued to stare until finally Will had to look away, his hands white as he waited for Hannibal's response. Finally Hannibal shrugged and replied, "Fine. I won't go."

"What? Just like that?" asked Will, slightly surprised by Hannibal's decision.

"Yes. You asked and I agreed to your request."

"But what about Clarice. You do care for her don't you?"

"Yes but not enough to make you angry. If you want me to leave her alone from now on then I will," Hannibal said. He smiled and kissed Will deeply.

When Will finally pulled back he asked, "So will you really leave all of that behind? For good now? No more Clarice. No more Jack or Alana. No FBI, nothing, just me, you, Abigail, and Florence. This is our life now and I don't want anything breaking into it."

"Alright," said Hannibal. "From here on out, our past is gone. You are of course right Will. This is our life now and I suppose when we play with fire it's only risking everything we have."

"Playing around with fire? Hannibal we murder someone every few weeks. That's playing with fire enough," Will said with a giddy laugh.

"Maybe so but good meat is worth a little risk," replied Hannibal as he kissed Will again. "Now get off the counter. I'm trying to make dinner."

Will grinned as he jumped down, smiling as he watched Hannibal work. They had a lovely dinner together and later Hannibal played the piano for Will.

Abigail had said she'd probably be late getting home but Will was stuck on staying up until she was back. Hannibal decided to stay up with him. Will read silently to himself as Hannibal continued to play the piano. It was a little past twelve when Abigail finally got home.

"Will, I told you there was no need to stay up. I was perfectly fine," muttered Abigail.

"It's twelve o'clock. Why were you out so late?" Will asked.

"This isn't the fifteenth century and I'm an adult. I am twenty-four now."

Will frowned but finally said, "Urgh, you're right. I just worry about you."

Abigail smiled. "I know you do but I'm fine. Remember, you and Hannibal taught me everything I know."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," commented Hannibal as he continued to play. "You've come up with some great ideas on your own."

They stayed up until Hannibal finished the piece of music and then they went to bed, their beautifully murderous life in Florence, Italy firmly established.

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**AN: Here's the final chapter. And on the day of the new episode! I hope you've all enjoyed this story as much as I have. It's my longest story in word count and chapters. Thank you to the people who followed this story, favorited it, and left reviews. It means a lot to me.**


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